The Poetry Bar

I fight, but not hate

I know I always fight, fight and fight
Nor scorn, nor chore bade me fight
I might have struggled for liberty but not hate
I’m sure I never abide anybody down Straight
I might have lived. Now zero humiliates my way
‘Do I breathe, am I dead?’ oh please leave me there
And leave me in my privileges, with too many spare
Or leave me happier than before like I was
Nor intense nor horrible, but like a flying calf


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