Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Throne

The throne of icicles
Cold spikes ups and downs
Void of heat
Vacuum of life

Who's the king of that crown?
Who's going to bear
The pain sans heir

When nightingale sings
And breeze of odor wind
Scent that lingering

When the owl scowl
And wolves howl
The stinks so foul

Then who's the king of that crown?
Who's going to suffer
Inflicted upon the throne

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