Bitter Wind
With handfuls of the finest dirt
To the queen, I offer in shame
Asking diamonds in return
Just maybe
Always just maybe
She'll finally be impressed
When every synapse I've ever had
Is reduced to pink and red pulp
With white flecked amongst
A dusty black dashboard
I submit to bitter wind to remind myself
The world is still revolving
Perhaps around her, steady and unending
But revolving nevertheless
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