19 Saturday May 2012
Posted in Creativity, Poetry
Tags
You entertain that wicked thing as its words spill out in electronic puke / draw a pentagram with your finger in the lies drawing sympathy from flies / it’s the dulling of the sting with the sharpening of a knife / you would scream but no one wants to hear it so you choke on the ultimatums / find a dark place to hide, slip the mask aside, and open Pandora’s box / behind all of venom’s possessive pride is hope
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