Tuesday, 6 April 2010

Hot Boxes

In day and night were alike,
Those boxes numerous were
Like sun on hands so hotly
Felt in that time long ago.

On so many fingers felt heat
Very strongly like slithering
Snakes so joyfully biting my
Hand which was weak like butter.

I had not yet achieved peace
Within flesh frail just like
Grass mowed and cut to pieces,
I was forever in unwanted pain.

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