If writers are right

If writers are right

I‘m royally fucked

And cordially cucked

By words that they write

But words are just that

so mothing will budge

A court full of saps

But no one to judge

A struggle of minds?

Or powerful men?

Both turning the tide

From cavern to den

If writers are wrong

Then everything‘s fine

And nothing will change

A perfect design

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These calloused wings

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the perfect death machine