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The Loser
the loser is ruled
by anger
it is licking the blood
oozing from its
wounds
it is like a dog
yelping
but there is no
master around
to help it
it is looking for a house
but it is far
the loser looks at
you now
as its enemy
it refuses any memory
of you
it rests under a big rock
taking the shelter
of the shadows
of its past.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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