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 Journalist
Like a chameleon,
He camouflage to receive,
Like a rolling rock,
He pulls and pushes to deliver.
Yet his merit rated like one amongst the clowns.
Around the clock he is eye balling,
Waiting to unmask the mascot,
To break off the devil's tail,
The crux of snake has leaked,
In eternal ink the story is written.
As he yawns, he falls.
Like leaves in autumn morning.
Pile up with a rake then left abandon.
Perhaps it's the curse of the third eyes.
Or, it's a method of rationality for truth or dare.
© 2011 by _Patricia Etienne
All rights reserved
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