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By John I. Blair

Blackie dreads the world,
The world he softly
Stalks through,

Unwont to trust,
Striking out with claws
At all he meets.

His midnight coat
Reflects his life,
Not a spot of light.

His bed
A pile of leaves,
Some rotting straw.

When he talks,
All he can say:
I fear you; feed me.

2019 John I. Blair, 5/25/2019

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