Autonomy
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Morning bells boom betwixt lofting ashes and
Unsheathed blokes razing the town;
Pirates about pillaging and raping
As they please;
Militia have fled the town.
Morning bells strike as the hanging and
Life forgot my passion there
And handed me the key;
For what possesses better snare
Of curiosity?
The key, ornate with golden leaves
And “Carpe Diem” divine,
