Bad Blood

Caked crystals of polished glass,
maze paths carved out of
crooked-limbed stars,
you guide them towards my body--
a body unaccustomed to the icy
finish of this once-green coated soil,
a mind solely waiting to learn and improve.
A trail manifests behind your spectacle
creating an encore,
mine to record,
and repeat and repeat,
you mock me.
If arrogance had a cure
you would be immune.

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