Fourteen thirds of nonsense shakes
A pale blue time of senseless snakes.
Crass it seems, in temperance vague.
Head the force, with cursive plague.
Resounding silence, grows within,
I melt without and stare, forces grim.
Restocked and faulted with decay;
Selfless marbles eaten with a fray.
As soon as it started to make sense,
We built a line and drew a fence.

Posted In: Poems

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