MY FIREMAJOR
No whistleblower here will tell me anything;
they're all as silent as ever. The journalist with
her rank paper and list of names, the executioner,
with his razor, just looking for necks. No more than
that the summoner's tale will offer. Old stories and
journeys I've heard before. My goodness, I've been
here so long the dust is a half-inch thick. Months
evaporate into years in a blink. I want to turn
the calendar page, but it will not
turn for another age.
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