Is it true? These terrible things you plan to do. But let me find my sack cloth and powder my face with ashes. Close my eyes for death. Give up my breath. Such blood upon your hands a mess. A wretched stain. It won’t wash away. Use Clorox bleach. It still won’t fade. Kill me today. Why hesitate? Don’t let me find out I’m what you hate. Don’t let me find out that it’s true: you do unto others what they can’t do. You flee for me for I’ve looked inside. Tapped the Chamber in my mind. To reign on you as fires hot. You built the ovens, now bake inside -
fromtrolldrivel@cluemail.com
