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"Playing Dead For Biscuits" by A_Puppet_Show

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A young knight embrace title,
the way man embrace his tale;
Fiction? it is a fools pretense -
to grow to know must we?


For the hell of it:


These men, sons all of them,
sit as sons far from young -
with a warm cynical heart;
A shield to have you see, these -
escape scorn escape pity ...

These men, fathers all of them,
stand as fathers unafraid -
with a loving wrathful tear;
A sword to have you see, these -
dare speak dare listen bravo!







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On Wednesday March 28th, 2007, Solace (1400) writes:
This is exultingly tearful - for some reason...a sword to have - to dare speak and listen - all lessons learnt. One must know the lie, before the truth is of use - fiction illuminates, enshrouds - is a sword. Some biscuits are hard to swallow.


On Wednesday March 28th, 2007, Solace (1400) writes:
Ah how i've missed your words my friend. that loving wrathful tear, penultimate expression...wonder...



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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/7066/96258 on Tuesday December 02nd, 2008 07:38 AM

Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)