November 7, 2011

“Don’t phone it in!” she screams
and grabs my blade, taking the control from me.
Off she goes, swishing and swinging; a general
swashbuckler is she. Well how now
do I feel? As if I wouldn’t join in with glee
if she would only ask it of me.
Blood as far as any eye can see, but
we’re all used to it and no folk will beg
for forgiveness.

Augh, the twist! I did not think it
coming, not in a million years. To be run
through with my own instrument. We
were all asking for it, but she gave and I got.



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