Symbols Many a times in my infinite dreams, Symbols appear in neat black rows. They crept in, stern and grim As if they were heralds of important news I shut the door in their faces, For they are rude, arriving unannounced. I abhor them for their lack of graces, And their smug grins slipped and slithered... ...Off to the ground, where I trammel them to their untimely deaths.
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