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You get off a flight
And their placard says SLUT,
You wear it to build tolerance
But that affirms you were it.

Power loves least resistance
And the heat loss is minimal
But at some point you feel it,
Your glow blinds people.

Blinds them from the
Faint circle around your head.
You contrast it out with 
Two profound horns.

Maybe that explains the headaches.

You hide your palms in pants,
Let the palmists read your feet
Cuz confusion is currency in
A Luna asylum.

©HerbertUba2017

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