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The master shuffles; eyes awake,

He ponders how to paint the day.

Bathed in vendetta, clothed in rage,

He watches the subject with ominous gaze.

The master is ready!

Seated gently, he starts the blaze.

Brush and canvass, flirted and teased,

Upon a kiss, birthed the beast.

Smiled with glee; his face was pleased,

“Thee I call, Democracy and Peace!”

News of the gem echoed the streets,

All the pundits came to see,

All in shock, and disbelief.

Silence froze; Orwell greets.

Accolade washed, the master’s feet.

All as one, “A Masterpiece!”

~ I.R.S

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