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Rated: 18+ · Other · Other · #1317042
This is a poem of frustration with the system of life that relies upon death.
Smell and Taste

What smells red?
The bullet holes In the rabbits head.
What smells blue?
The dregs of death upon gods shoe.
What smells green?
Something most obscene.
What tastes like death?
Your final breath.

-End-
© Copyright 2007 A Flying Purple Monkey of Doom (j_arnott at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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