Bob Wire

March 29, 2012
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Before I shoot to kill, I shall rise above thee
For you raise your voice over mine, shot blood cold; you worthless dime
Rats and roaches eat at your feet while I rise to the light
The raven shall gawk at your hand, poison shall rinse you, and eat your fleshy meats
Hell shall disregard you, heaven never thought of you, unwanted
My for-head is printed in holy water, your lips stitched with hatred bob wire
The enhancing blades slide against your rotting face
The creeping lies that filled the space
Your revengeful hands crack as you walk down the enchanted street
Your eyes pierced with black, haunting—hiding discreetly
Your teeth glisten with your mother’s blood as you suck her out with untrustworthy secrecy
You hinge at the sound of a child’s joy
My foot is printed with holy water, your lips stitched with hatred bob wire

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