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Saturday, December 11, 2004


This one is the last poem called Samurai. I'll give you hints if you need them cuz this one is a little hard.
Perfect to a fault, the samurai is proud,
He moves with grace, head held high.
But the samurai is not all that he seems,
This warrior is not human, but a youkai.

Face of an angel, temper of a storm,
Mind like a knife and hands on his sword.
Beware the pretty face for it is full of deciet,
For your blood he comes,
This sword hungers for meat.

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