Terminal
I left the fever of the blade For the edema of the pill And you stayed to roast Because you thought you weren’t done yet I tried but I can’t see with your eyes I tried but I can’t help you Unless you want to help yourself So I just have to sit here I have to sit here until they tell me the news That you’re burnt on both sides And unscrapeable This time. I know that scrapeable is not a word, but it fit. Written October 21st, 2001 © on Oct 20 2001 04:42 PM PST, Katrina Armour 0 • 10
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"I left the fever of the blade..."