James Hawthorne
James Hawthorne
Apr 1, 2013

Loyalty is the gasoline,
to a match and a bridge,
flames set lands free,
leaving rubble from each ridge.
Who am I to speak?
Eire's love radiates on me.
My words, robust, openess, weak.
Through heated air it may be hard to see.
Embarrassment earnests my endeavors,
to condescend and criticize,
dangerous are the acts that seem clever,
peculiarly in shortening ones size.
Loyalty is a long, cold rifle,
best used for blood and otherwise, stifle.

 
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