Bullseye

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The matador faces the bull
Face to face
Man to beast
For one suspended moment
A broken moment
Where faith is lost
In previous actions
But the path was chosen
And pride wins over
The blade is drawn
Drawing out the moment
He draws his cloak close
In his mind's eye
Moment of glory
And the blade must move
To the side of the bull
Into the bull
The blade hits the bullseye.





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