Rest for the Wicked
A poetry blog
Monday, November 14, 2011
Bet you haven’t heard this before
All streaked up in waves
And thinly plucked straws
Cuz I’m just a kid with a box of strings
Playing on the carpet
Waitin for my daddy to come home
So he can beat me senseless
Relate to it so I may please you
And you can feed me,
Strangely
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