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Sep 2013
before he died
his breath was sour
it smelled like whiskey

flock to me
adorn me in funerary robes
build me into a messiah
so i can bruise myself in your name

i promise to you
i ******* swear to all i have left that i would finish creating you
but our time has run out
Joe Satkowski
Written by
Joe Satkowski  United States
(United States)   
337
 
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