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Like a stork I strike.
Snatching youth from the light.
Laying in the moonlit mist.
A whirlwind of shouts.
Dismissing my doubt.
Pushed down a hole.
swirling to and fro.
Till they consume my soul.
Hunger hast no hold on these evil crows.
Glistening black feathers shine light on whats tethered.
Searching for a wayout.
Into the night!
Struck down by cactus hands rooted in fright.
Close them to this awful sight.
| Oh how vivid and pretty ...Like Haecceity i could see this being taken on ....like a series ...I dont know ...It was wonderful in its self though ...The words and descriptions are great ...Much praise ...No nitpicking from me ..i wouldnt change a thing||| Posted on 2005-03-31 00:00:00 | by Krysti | [ Reply to This ] || I was intrigued by this well-written poem, I also think it could be developed, is it about the police killing people? or just gang war murders? I love the "cactus hands" reference, I can see hands up in a spotlight beam, and I gave the ending a bodybag reference. I liked it a lot, and would love to hear more of the story. Be happy|
|| Posted on 2005-03-31 00:00:00 | by wewak11 | [ Reply to This ] |