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Rust

Beware thine own soul

Thou art covered in rust

That no oil can free

From the years of mistrust

That you’ve had in yourself

Instilled on day one

Passed from parent to parent

Though now it is done

Who’s failures are these

You perceive in my being

Refund my inheritance

Take back the lien

That you’ve placed on this life

With your shackles of shame

It is time to let go

Or deny me my name

MS

I don’t like the way it ends, but it is too late to care.  Also, I believe I’ve written “Though now it is done” in numerous poems, including the first I ever wrote which I may or may not post tomorrow.

P.S.  Like a dog rolling in a carcass, I want you on me

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