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Crucified Seraphim
Excoriate your garish light
I belong to the crimson sun
Thank you and I apologize
For giving you apt wings
In an unsolicited riposte
Now, I'm letting go of the strings
Back to my cranial dome
Nibbling on a ravine of fear
Ubiquitously searing
Adhering to my struggles
Without banisters or pillars
As you vaguely conceal
Your lustrous wings
In a conceited vying
Do no crucify yourself,
Fallen seraphim.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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