Write!
Letemdangle
Published
09/02/2010
I've got nothing to share,
My brain is bumping up and down,
I feel pissed and I know no one cares.
Time long ago, cousin not my choice,
Teeth unglued keys in a piano, eyes full of hope.
We ventured mans sewer, smelled it's final destination.
He accepted to French Foreign Legion,
Disappears, for many years,
Later I learn, he is called the Butcher.
Today, his smile like keys in a Heitzman,
Serves me burgers, one, two, three, four!
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