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L T Winter
Poems
Dec 2016
The Artistry Of Death
There's blood-
Its warm as it dribbles
Melan-choly with the floor
Half somber,
Its changing things slowly
Brok-er-ing gravity-
There's cruor
Incanting elixirs
On never-read
Centipede's fiction
And we stir softly
For-never and always
As the slabs begin
To grow--
Cold.
Written by
L T Winter
M/United Kingdom
(M/United Kingdom)
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