The lights go out
a shooting star cannot be named
This is stellar:
I have brought you down on your knees
oh how you plead
I knew you would beg and squeal
You will not curse missed opportunities
if you need an imprimatur
it might as well be the imprints of my hands all over you
one stinging riposte
to set you in your place.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
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