Monday, September 14, 2020

X-cu(r)sed

Deer hunter, Dear haunter,

Bury my hurt in your burry heart,
Whet enough the berry dart.
Bed of rose is all my art,
Wood of sun that bled the hart
Who needs (h)ero(e)s in a place like this dear?
Does need he-roes deer.

27-2-06

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