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Triune 175
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2013 I sat in my chair. I could deny it no more.
Fascist hands diggin' deep into my soul.
Sealing my intuition of a language that has no tongue.
They censored me like a Soviet paper, a Nazi novel burning in the wind.
Wrapping a Catholic Rosary around my bloodied wrist.
Blonde wisps of hair falling down from her shoulders.
I looked up and she whispered "1991 again"
