He broke in my soul,
Played the loot,
The petty thief stole
And I took no pursuit.
I’d learned defense,
The jab and trance,
But not the pretense
Of the offensive stance.
I dropped my guard
Scuffled my feet
Over the shards
Of my parried retreat
And he knew me, or else
He got lucky, I guess,
To read my tells
To let me confess
Secrets and sabotages.
viewingcamelot 
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