sábado, 1 de junho de 2013

The last clutch

Words are spoken with a rattle snakes tail
serpent sentences the phrases slither
Close those lips so poison doesn´t spray
Loose cobra her mouth has nothing good to say

Assuming the treatment of a queen
The servants back has broken
The two squires in between
are in her grief soaken

Nothing to give
Though the snake finds a way to request
finds a way to get a favour
The scales and tears and all of her fears

Leverage a venemous beverage
Nothing more will be lifted from me
The hand closes as this poem is written
The last clutch will be a wrist bitten

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