Her hair
The wind whistled through the naked lady’s hair as she watched down below from the top of the cliff where she stood.
Nothing could be left to chance,
an arrow through heart of those who choose to advance,
fucking like crazy and running like mad,
this is the best life we ever had.
Nothing could be left to chance,
an arrow through heart of those who choose to advance,
fucking like crazy and running like mad,
this is the best life we ever had.
Poetry Blog 
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