Poetic game: Parry

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Round 2

Submitted: October 10, 2018

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Submitted: October 10, 2018

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Struggle between your thighs would affect me you think?
 
No I'd enjoy drinking from your perfect effervescent stink.
 
My burning is rationed
 
 and when I've had my fill of mead
 
With your yearning for passion
 
 I'd give you more dark seed
 
Don't worry, I've never held my breath
 
There is no room in my chest
 
It is reserved to take all of your fears
 
You anger, you hatred, your smiles and tears
 
Maybe it is you little bird who should give up, take flight.
 
I'll keep going until your feathers are out, until you cant fight.


© Copyright 2018 Robert Bright. All rights reserved.

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