Bless your face,
you disgrace
who has never had to run the race
or feel the pain of the chase
Something I can’t face
Here, there, something out of place.
Where’s my mace?
There is no trace of the space I used to case
What is the base of my disgrace? And where can I find grace?
Not in lace.
Not in a vase.
I must set my own pace.
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