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						If it ever bloody rains by Ivan Donn Carswell 
						
						I never said I would, I only said I could  do what you wished, the subtle difference  should have raised a cautious flag;  maybe I bragged out loud, made it sound  as if it was intent, I never meant to make  it seem that way. So today I wear your  brittle animosity – just out of curiosity, how do  you manage that? It smacks me to the core, though  I’ve felt it thus before I’ve never managed yet  to live at ease with towering dread that’s leaden  in your steely, silent gaze. I suppose my only road  is plea of raw insanity, I’m bruised and battered  from a false belief that rain would fall and give relief,  that you would see the consequence of acting  out too soon. I should tilt the moon, I knew  you’d never fall for that. Alright, I’ll clean the goddamn  drains; God forbid, if it ever bloody rains I’ll take  the chance and also dance a naked jig. © I.D. Carswell						 
						
						
						
						
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