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Liquid Concentration: barzaletta

Pick up that sad and ancient game; 
select your poison: wealth or fame.
Thinking that we’re all the same
can make it hard to shift the blame.
No bird can fly with one wing lame;
old toothless tigers can be tamed,
but still may seek to wound or maim,
or anyway, that’s what they claim.
Look past the edges of the frame,
beyond your dying bonfire’s flame -
for in the end, the things you name
are powerless to share your shame.

19 APR 2025

© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.

Published inPoems

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