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Thursday, May 30, 2013

Scissors... toy, or terror, you decide...discuss.....


Runs with scissors

I runs with scissors
He clames
With pride
So his shirt says
If you can read it beside
All that dirt and grime
Grunge under his nails
Filth on his hands
Not sitting down for
This life
On top of it he stands
Tall
Stooped sholdrs bent back
Testament
To the price
He's paid
His armorment proofed
With pride
I runs with scissors
He clames
With pride
So his shirt says
If you can read it beside
Its too bad they bite
He says
As tears roll from his eye
He tries to hold from out
What's spilling from inside
I runs with scissors
He clames
With pride
It hurts so when they bite
Spills from inside
It hurts so
When they bite


Chris McQueeney  5/29/10    12:15 A.M.

3 comments:

Brian Miller said...

whew...those last couple lines are emotional for me...the repetition makes it so....nice chris...you doing ok?

Ben Ditty said...

Oh, it's a life style, my friend. Both toy and terror.

kj said...

you are natural born poet, chris.

love
kj