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Sick Engineer (Hell Awaits)

January 24, 2014

onehundredandseventeen

Reciprocated propaganda.
Matriculated to your false bonanza.
I need your fawning.
And your fake smile.
Like I need a bullet through the eye.
But still sometimes I wonder.
Why you were like.
Bambi skittering on the ice.
Well ain’t that nice?
Staring down an empty sight.
Into the frozen forests.
Of fucking never never.
Well ain’t that clever.
There’s someone up there.
Pulling levers.
Someone to blame.
When you skip into the frame.
That it’s nairy your fault.
This fruitless endeavour.
No wonder you sleep.
So safe in your skin.
As soft as snow on the lake.
Though the ice’s growing thin.
Like it’d suffer the weight.
Like I’d ever forgive her.
Laying prone in the powder.
My index on the trigger.

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From → Poetry

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