Monday, July 5, 2010

Sleep





The false lights were twinkling at the house

Where the disparate friends were good for one

More round before the end call was done

 

And once the last desperate homely mouse

Took a fatal bite of the sweet bait

Before riding away on a ship of hate

 

What is now so wise cannot be rouse

From the dungeons where they keep

Their screams silent not to wake the sleep.









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