Tuesday, October 9, 2007
these words
fall out of my voice
like rain from clouds
to fall upon your fragile frame
to break you
to hate you
to save you
As you never did for me
and as my spiked syllables
pierce your delicate skin
to repent your sins against my kind
and I'll attack with my violent verbs
my weapons made from my words
my acid will burn away your hiding place
and my cutting consonants will ruin your pretty face
there'll be no where for you to go
to hide or run away
Saturday, November 22, 2008
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