centipede

your sorry that isn't there I don't need
your ego filled with greed I won't feed
you may have left your seeds
but that doesn't replace your deeds
at first there was no speed
now I find no heed
I had to bleed to be freed
plead to proceed
in a creed of green weeds
on a steed at high-speed
your misdeeds recede
as healthy as flaxseed
I am done too, indeed
all that's left is to succeed
until then I'll rewrite and reread
marching with the legs of a centipede

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