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I could not be wounded by another
Anymore than a flower has fangs
Or a rainstorm, teeth
No more than a caress has a saw-blade hidden
Or a word has a sickle's point inside of it
But should I have any expectations...
I would be finished off promptly
By a single blow of the headman's axe
By one intonation that curls up or down
At the end of a simple sentence;
And by my own hand: none other.
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