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The Drink

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The drink is sickly sweet.
The aroma makes me wince in pain.
The pain of wanting and needing…

I see him glide from his shaded dais,
Holding high his jeweled scepter
With the decanter in his ancient hand…

I patiently wait my turn.
At last he stands tall before me.
With a wink he pours me a glass…

I raise it to my wet lips.
Smelling the intoxicating fragrance,
I tilt the glass and taste…

I drop the glass to the alabaster floor.
It shatters into diamonds
And the ruby liquid puddles…

My eyes now wide in horror,
My screams catch in my throat.
My body now moves without consent…





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