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The raw and the ruse
Sister Sarah said, her siblings are green
Steeped in the blues they fall headlong,
When dealing with a willing opposite
Undefined emotions embedded the senses
Presumed love becomes a smiling snare
Like a bubby traps set for rabbit holes
She prayed never to be caught there in
Declared fervidly, ‘Na love I go chop?’
Her love has eyes on a thinking head
To see the mask of preying people