May 18, 2010
I played my guitar,
Strumming the strings of hair,
Delicate as the devil
Whose eyes were red as the sky was last night.
Last night, when you told me that it was over,
And that my guitar had a better chance at life then me
With its strings of hair…
Like your hair, golden as the utensils I used to eat my dinner,
While you controlled my mind uncontrollably,
And taught me that people are more
Closely related to bugs then animals, according to theories.
And you simply stared at me, with your
Unknowledgeable eyes,

Wait, what?

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