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Half Dozen Cherubs

thrown into a high ceiling room

glossy cream columns

gold framed mirrors

and a polished floor

my stumbling footsteps

tap against the echoed walls

and half a dozen cherubs

fly above me

their bronzed bodies

glazed baby faces

fat thighs with tiny useless feet

I call to them

to hear me

I scream out and beg for an answer

and one flies too close

I jump quicker than an angel

grab the little bugger to the ground

but my hands are burnt to red

and I scream a pain and defiance

the air thick of these

clockwise spinning idiots

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