The Taste of Bitter Roots (poetry)

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August Wings of Glass
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Will you hold this crippled child?
he's been poor for quite awhile

legs and skin soft and white
crying softly through the night

upon his seat of rusted cream
the king of darkness does doth dream

and as he sits and waits in thought
all below shall start to rot



EDIT: The line "upon his seat of rusted cream" is not, JfAlcon25, about my butt. it's about my throne.

EDIT: Apparently, JfAlcon25, you think it's funny to leave berating comments on my blog post. Well guess what? I'm not going to delete your commetns, and I'm not gogin to disabel commetning. It's poetry. If you don't LIKE it then go ahead and say so, no one cares. It's obvious your an idiot. And you don't GET poetry. And when I said THRONE I didn't mean a TOILET, you cockassed piece of shit.

EDIT: Due to the horrors of JfAlcon25 and his PHOTOSHOPPED "shit kingdom" picture, I'm disabling and removing all comments.