Familia Familiar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Bleh

Submitted: July 19, 2016

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Submitted: July 19, 2016

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I woke up to an empty plate

The smell of cooking 

Wasn't there

 

I look morbid in my current state

I stopped the sucking

Who gives a care?

 

They took their bags they couldn't wait

Neither were they looking

but their relatives at the stone slates would stare

 

Now resume back to the first one

The plate of food had gone

But so had she

And how can this be?

A knife had he

And a bottle of vodka in fact three

Hungover he was

As stoned as his knife was sharp

She, by luck, was able to dodge 

Until his last plunge 

Which left a chalk line

Of definition o so fine

But alas it was a sign

Of Death upon the house


© Copyright 2017 Sa.L.T. All rights reserved.

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