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Oct 2010
The thirst was gripping,
His will was slipping,
A fix would sort him out,
A female ******,
This genius surgeon,
To this faith, he is devout.

The moon shows up,
He drains his cup,
And enters into the night,
The wait seems longer,
He has time to ponder,
How he'll use his doctors knife.

And, look, he sees her,
His need is like fever,
He must be careful now,
Her drunken laughter,
He follows after,
And  wipes his sweaty brow.

A sweep so quick,
And just a *****,
Her neck leaks blood, so slowly,
His eyes close up,
His ego shows up,
Mountjoy leaves temporarily.

Here stands a monster,
Who pounced upon her,
climactic satisfaction,
His work plans grow,
He intends to show,
These girls, are, but a fraction...
eileen mcgreevy
Written by
eileen mcgreevy
     heidi and Neva Flores Varga Smith
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