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when did you lose your way?
what of the compass
you once held next
to the beat of your heart,
its chain running
through your veins,
a golden blood?
it lies, now, 
on the floor, kept only
for show.
didnŐt, once, you follow
its needle straight north,
a glance to either 
side forbidden?
and now, now
as you lie
next to it, run
the chain through your grasp,
has it gone tarnished,
or have you gone blind?