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Jan 2010
The curse is: rot to mutilation,
You f**ker, scoundrel of my nation!
Each letter of this is your end -
A bitter, stinging, deathly blend.

And on it goes: with every ache,
Inflicted on me with your clutch,
Each fiber of your body's raked,
Exploding from the filthy touch.

you do not die,
but suffer rotten,
and then they find you
dumb and broken.

this curse is quiet,
there is no sound -
my fears drive you to the ground.

Remember: every little pain
Is like an earthquake to your brain.

(c)kRu, 20.10-21.10.04
Julia kRu
Written by
Julia kRu
637
 
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