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The Prelude

This time,
His stomach growled like a Lion salivating in front of his wounded prey.
His response?
Someone would be kind enough to grant me a plate,
Later on today…”

Didn’t have many ways to eat,
Nor have a chance to reach REM sleep in such a long time.
Hopping from a bench,
To the next,
Just asking for a penny,
Nickel or a dime.
Residing in the Lower East Side?
He only had one thing in mind…

Going back Home to step in front of a mic.
Showing packed shows how He writes up a line,
While feeling and reeling them in!
Dealing a rhythm in His,
Sealing a rigid Abyss I!
Knew He would escape,

An escape found through His love of Poetry,
Instead of flowing drinks!
Into my safe haven.
So tired I was of being slapped by His tears and gallons of beer,
As His Inner Child who has survived His excruciating pain and,
Flashing memories I was forced to see while trying my best to make Him,

I’m glad he did.
I am!
Within His story of victory,
There’s one thing left for us to confront.
I just,
Hope he’s more grown and mature than what he was back then,
Enough is enough!
No more hiding from a rewind preventing both of us!
To move forward…

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