Show and Tell

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Sacred Games

This fabric of hope
Stretched thinly on your bones
Reminds me of a comrade, fallen,
Another of your ranks.
Merciless and wanton,
One more I abandon
On the busy seashore
Of these rocky banks.

Each one that fell away
Wanted ballads on his stone;
Each one, he took his price
When he burned away alone.
But asking not my rhymes,
What does he ask of me,
He whose spirit burns away,
Everyday, for free?
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