beneath the wind that's new and thin
the shadows draw on the wall
they dance asunder in unison
whilst softly through thoughts they call.
amidst the splay of willowed vines
a tangled mane is conceaved
with quirt and chain and similar signs
the blurr-ed lines undermine.
with games unkind and not much mind
black whip moves in silent place
enchained, the blind completely confined
unmasked for the not enshrined.
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
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