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he sleeps soundly, dreams of
yellow submarines and
doors painted black, long
long after midnight.

when awake, he lurches
drunkenly
pulls himself up,
fists clenched against the
worn coffee table – We
Are the Champions! his refrain,
each step a walk
on the wild side.

For Ransom

by Melissa Kro. 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/champion/”>Champion</a&gt;

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