I met a peddler once,
in the middle of nowhere,
there was no sign of life
and I was sure my end was near.
He parked his bicycle
and offered me some water as I passed out,
waking up in a tent,
I felt uneasy but comfortable at the same time.
Smoke filled the room,
as I watched the peddler’s broad back from behind.
He noticed I was awake
and turned around,
in his hand was a dagger I knew quite well,
a dagger I had forged to kill my brother,
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