I hope my illness takes you hostage
perhaps i could pay you back
For all the times the thriving version
stood in a more perfect path
I hope I make it difficult to
turn away as I linger
Your shackles chains and branks are lashed to
my beatific fingers
I can still see you in the middle
of a constricting circle
Your necks are craned and faces cluttered
with shadows of this miracle
by Ilyn
"Not long for Illinois."
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