the stray arrow it appears and then, well a write is not always right, a flight of fancy, fancying you while you are oblivious to me.
a fancy flight up and down stairs my emotions riding escalators on a wing,prayers come later free falling no parachute
sometimes winged missiles shot left field, made hot for love or not, Cupid, that scoundrel, lets fly willy nilly.
his darts pierce but are not necessarily accurate, his sums when summed up are wrong, not a straight arrows on the narrow line of sight.
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