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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #2261972
To be whatever the Muse needs...
To be the brush of the muses,
 the pen with the ink that oozes,
 the paint that drips, the glue that sits
 atop humanity’s bruises,
 no greater honor waits for us
 than to be left a shriveled husk,
 the paint that drips, the glue that sits
 impaled upon the muses’ tusks.
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