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Untitled
Headed in one direction,
my eye stops in its tracks.
A fate of energy,
sustains my appetite.
Quick,
I need a strategy.
A sudden reversal,
A sharp rebound.
No consensus,
Already-faltering.
I follow her tracks,
Don’t be disruptive.
I fall heavily into her arms,
indebted by her eyes.
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This poem only uses words from the Wall Street Journal Article, “Where Are Oil Prices Headed? Two Experts Make Their Conflicting Cases”.