He took the axe and cut off a bough of a tree,
But men are often forced to seek help from the very ones they despise;
For this world if full of troubles.
Where is the shrine of the harlot who was beside the road of Enaim?
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You need a young goat to pay for your harlotry Interesting.......but some customs never change.You can only write probable changes and possibilities in poems.Then you are a poet.And you never die.Poets never die.May be Lucio do not understand or it will take him time to apprehend such things. Do comment on my poem 'RACISM- a game of colour'.I asked people many such questions to answer herein.Many cannot as they are ashamed of themselves.At least they understand it unlike Lucio in your poem who is innocent.But i feel you can answer. I appreciate your writings and hope it will come up more and more.