deepundergroundpoetry.com

November carnage.

The moon was white
In the darkest night
She rolls her hair braid
and her slice of package
for train .
She was late running from station to station to see her daughter her may fairy tale of roses.
The station master room was clean lately
And her slice of package was delivered
Work shipped Carnage.
Written by AlisVolatPropriis8
Published
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