scythe
He came to my bedside
And told me all things must die
I stared through him
At the teeth chattering on the walls
At the decaying bouquets
At the bodies piled up
In the corner of the room
I took his hand
And he smiled
He came to my bedside
And told me all things must die
I stared through him
At the teeth chattering on the walls
At the decaying bouquets
At the bodies piled up
In the corner of the room
I took his hand
And he smiled
<Deleted User> (13762)
Thu 16th Jul 2015 12:54
great poem Stu - hope it wasn't the salmon mousse
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Stu Buck
Thu 16th Jul 2015 14:24
I thought it tasted a bit off...