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The lion who spits out dreams

Barking quietly in the desert at night.

What spilled through the gap of the fangs was

Not anger,

A piece of prayer that didn't reach anyone.

The mane wet in the moonlight

Swaying like an old crown,

The neon of the city that can't sleep

It was reflected in the eyes in the distance.

"What is strength?"

While chewing such a question,

The lion dreams again today.

The golden breath rises to the sky,

Wishes that could not become stars

It was quietly illuminated.

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