The fair-haired man was under artificial lights,
White trousers with white and beige dress,
Over the reins a man holds a horse
That dances like a rogue of offering and justice.
These speechless warriors carry commands
Of redness, and golden blood.
In the chair a radius is noted
To perform the circle of wet being.
These wet ingredients of the clown
Are like a recipe for disasters to come
Sunlight glared like polished windows,
A young man was a boy now,
Working in his office called Life.
He dispersed like clouds of lightning,
Mountains began to shudder.
Sitting in the air-conditioned room
Was internally calm,
The badge ruined the days of worry,
Anger had beamed on the layers
Of the brain.
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