by Mr. Grayskull
a blackbird rests
it’s wings unspread
on a white horse’s neck
noon’s sunlight shining
warmly through
the sleeping bird’s plumaged quilt
wakes not the horse up
Pegasus is dead
I had a poem to say just before swallowing my own tongue it slithered down my throat and nested in the left lung now a snake sleeps there h...
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