Butchers were in panic.
The bulls are coming.
Dandelions were
in strike mode.
The Ebola dream
was competing.
Nobody there
sleeps in open.
The stink of dying
poems overwhelms.
Please make a
self-potrait like
Rembrandt ****
without a mirror.
There was no
night watch.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Butchers were in panic.
The bulls are coming.
Dandelions were
in strike mode.
The Ebola dream
was competing.
Nobody there
sleeps in open.
The stink of dying
poems overwhelms.
Please make a
self-potrait like
Rembrandt ****
without a mirror.
There was no
night watch.