1461

Alpacas in a rolling field,
And species sold unseen,
Many metres down my shield,
Such places I have been.

You have doorbells now,
I had muse and mead,
Bones did show to me somehow
A foul and future deed.

An owl within your stomach
Flew through all this time,
A blizzard for a buzzard,
Sacred and sublime.

We sacrificed our future,
Seven days of rivers red,
My past both sword and suture,
A llama farm my bed.

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