Sunday, 10 July 2011

A Resentment

Take this ye path
to fill you fools with gold.
Don't look back,
no one wants to see ye.

Rape my arse,
like you raped so many.
Find ye back here,
and ye will be hated.

Take my fingers,
and cut them off.
You need them more,
to make ye smile.

Find a pot of gold,
and keep it for yeself.
We don't want it,
keep it all for yeself.

We know you will anyway.

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