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Erasers

It was a lengthy process,
The erasure of his morality.
He had a stubborn head on his shoulders
And we
The erasers
Were loathe to unsettle it.
He was certain
Of where his feet rested on the earth,
Of where the compass needle pointed,
And how easy it was to get there.
He never went astray,
Until we caught up with him,
And pried the righteous words right
From his mouth and
It was quite a while after that
That he said anything
Sensible
Again.




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