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#12(3) Raining Winter

Would you rather step up, or on my toes?
You have many friends, you pretend many foes.
Would you rather let up, or get close?
You have many spent, no offense to your rose.

Would you rather get up, or be Moses?
Live let and defend, rearrise life again.
I would rather be ended, than be those.
Those choices you pry, pry open like the sky.

Raining Winter.


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