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Feds Are On Parole
My life, destined to start and end in a museum out of business.
An irrelevant, disassociated wreckage of artwork and sand of broken bones and charred words.
Splattered and laid to rest on a canvas of human skin.
Shattered light shown on mankind to combat the scarring resurrection of the bloody bodies eaten by the forefathers of hell and war.
I’m put on show and never to return to a once beloved painter.
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