The churning


Cool smoke in amber shadows
Ebony pillows swirl unrest
Ancient growl do eyes report
Sweet curls of bowel breath
Confines cave echo low
Boil masses deaths retort

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This Poems Story

Entering a home to get the son of a worried mother would see me spend a million panic stricken years about his lair in a handful of seconds.Now aware and prepared,I enter and remove the innocents.