Plague
By craig2
A cure they shouted to no one there, dying numbers stopped count - dynamically vexed yet proud, diseased, mortality is common ground. Stumbling homeless, searching hopeless magic atonement with sour-shriveled skin- knowing the roach, forgiven by worm, untold futures march in. Written January 19th, 2002 © on May 21 2002 12:24 AM PST 0 • 9
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"A cure they shouted..."