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Red and Yellow.

Wrapped up
in all that darkness
as a child,

who could know
who, what would
become of you, after all?

Tearing
through skin
with claws, blades
and teeth,

turning to bullets
when impacts
have grown dull.

Adaptation: predictable.

At the heart
of your crusade
resides folly, 

now standing lonely
and embittered
by your lack

of presence in the safe
space just beyond
the red and yellow tape
cocooning
your mind.

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