Monday, August 9

There goes my last temptation. She moves with a sweet consideration. And I'll hope you don't miss it, now it all is gone.

What happened to all the beautiful people?
Their make up has run, their shells have peeled back.
Backstabbed their defences, gone on the attack.

What happened to all those promising words?
Pursed on those lips, delivered with ease.
Covered with venom, full of disease.

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