Wineblood

 
 
Funny thing wine.

Red as blood it moves
Through the veins
Like a robber
Stealing your senses
And persuading you that
Life would be better
If it took up permanent residency.

Like a mother.

The bazooka of reason it
Commits treason
And leads you into
Ways that you
Wouldn’t normally follow.
Folly? No because I like it so
And can say what I feel. I think.
 
 

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