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Graphic by Duobla_m

I do not know what it means to be a Saint

ugliness is the mark worn within stranger’s eyes

they say — midget — cursed otherwise

one word that graces archetype of a blind guess

Shape always begins with a simple say

encircles imagination by spider’s web

in kind of oblivion that holds morgue slabs

and bears everything in a dead man’s sight

But there are beautiful creatures around the earth

their haven glows for them over the deepest night

and here for all and sundry with no exception

believers will count for every tooth two fangs

for every eyelet a smoking eye




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Martin Smallridge

Martin Smallridge

Marcin Malek, also known as Martin Smallridge, Poet, writer, playwright, and publicist. Editor-in-chief of Agora24 on Lives and writes in Ireland

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