The Crimson Visor

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Behind a forest of fishing poles
And hidden beneath rusty buckets
Lies my coveted fishing visor.
Firm stitches secure an emblem
Sewn into the front;
A large blue marlin
Emerging from the sea.

Flakes cover its bill,
Not only salt but crimson blood.
Grotesque to the world,
But a trophy to myself,
The blood is not mine
But my many targets’.

We share victory,
We share defeat,
But through it all we persevere.
From the lakes of Budapest
To the waves of Costa Rica,
We are united in our prospects.





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Bless_survivor13 said...
Apr. 8, 2015 at 9:09 am
this is excellent poetry we come from the same city is thats why?
 
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