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Nov 06, 2009
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Poor Pandora
She stood behind a noise and
concealed a stone among
the reeds which left her alone
with a memory that one life is
no more to a song than one
sung by lead's tongue and
white powder, beautiful white
powder in the air around her
whispering,- '' Killers, rogues, bend your saws
Failure's muses, sound excuses
Scheme when high horse heroes gloat
Killers, rogues, bend your saws
Without your service we'd be lost
Hoot, deride bent pride's shoes
Killers, rogues, bend your saws
Failure's muses, sound excuses ''
— doorman, Nov 06, 2009
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Critiques
Seren
16 years 7 months ago
Dear Espen
doorman
16 years 7 months ago
Dear Jayne-Chloe
lyz
16 years 7 months ago
Dear Espen
doorman
16 years 7 months ago
Dear Lyz
lyz
16 years 6 months ago
Hey dear Espen