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The Unmusical Napoleon Dance
My pants shifted unwillingly against the leather chair,
The air.
Never welcomed spring or the bouquets of roses.
It opened its door to my deepest foes.
The dance.
It was filled with vengeance and strife.
The bow no longer plays the tune, but plays the frustration from within.
The scratches,
Left me in despair. Yet I continued without-
without the joy and peace.
Oh, be gone!
I beseech you!
I left the air to the dark.

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