Out Shine with Hate
On death's last walk broken sighs are dispelled- like raw bowels into glazed-over eyes hIs last companion in this world of black flies lies dead and still next to the white innocent snow maybe he doesn't belong here maybe he was out shone maybe he followed then bony beconing finger- into Death's rancid coridor tempation has her price always feasting on the weak- feeding them to flies and watching shining eyes dim to nothingHavent written in 2 months trying to get back in swing :) Written February 18th, 2002 © on Feb 18 2002 02:10 PM PST 0 • 1
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"On death's last walk..."