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Writer's pictureDarkling Thrushes

The Slaughter House

High in the walls is a secret window,

Flooded with light, of cookies and cream.

It opens when it rains, is shut to the sun,

My face will speak your name again tonight,

My eyes will slowly search the dark land then.

The lights of an army on approach glow

Their cannons at the high walls perineum,

Grown filthy in mud and rain; we few

Who call the enemy leaders and say:

"Turn back now and win eternal renown,

For your bravery and feeling of fraternity,

Or face the fury of the seasons, I

Will be the enemy of them who love

Enemies, and knock-out your teeth by club,

And morning-star, though it kills my heart made

With cookies and cream by tears of you're eyes.

Renown you will know, your maimed and bleeding

Bodies pinned to this wall, by forsaken mercy."

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