Inner Mystery

November 30, 2010
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No sky painted pastel blues and pinks

A fool's gold or a wise man's silver

Locked away until those white doves set sail

White raptures abound

Flowing, hesitantly with such engraved contridiction

Plowing, unplowed, over plowed was this mystery

Leased, rented and loaned out to the innocents

Bondaged and captured for the pleasure of such men

Craving what was once a secret

Clinging, she was, breathing she wasn't

Alas, Candidly she speaks

Wanting and demanding sweet sweet currrency

For the price of her inner mystery

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