BloodMature

You quake

As dawns eyes awake

Yellow ribbons in the morning light

So slight

And you feel yourself live

Behind the doors of your repulsive 

Young mind

Works with blood assigned

Felicitous jobs for the factories

Of cells

From your lungs you expel

To utter a philanthropic prayer

Too bad

Your hypocrite ad

Attracts those whose blood is just as cold

Just as sad

The End

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