Untitledthat peasant fear is wrapped up in haute couture traumathe prescient tragedy, the nostalgic dramathe never ending strategyThe comma in your karmaThe chameleon camouflage of your feelingsThat are bested by your silence that's kneeling to violencearrested your healingsnested your heart in darknessstanding on the precipice of lonelinessI found you therewound around the downy softness of her hairDisentangled you, shook you up and jangled you where she had only dangled youMy help is not harm, my arms are not weaponsNo napalm in my calm, step on without fearCourage, Rabbit. I'm here
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