Monday, January 7, 2013

Poem: 17 Days of Slaughter

A day 'ere and a day 'airless.

Drooping on the manliness
I went through the x perience
Wobbling, withering, wakingly
The soul of destruction that never
was.

Cut the rope of 17 days of slaughtered-
misery. Let me free, like f-bird.

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