Poking and prodding at old wounds,
Like a dog's unattended tongue,
They infuriate themselves,
As the blood flows once more.
It showed me the truth, it showed me his soul, and I understood for the briefest moment.
Then I saw.
Tongue that cut in the roof of your mouth until it flows red with life.
Tomorrow is always a new day, unless you told it to replicate once more.
She'll dance me to death if I follow, and her words are a poison I've never tasted before. Maybe she'll allow me thirty seconds to catch my breath while I study the concept of love and warfare.
By Ben Jones
Like a dog's unattended tongue,
They infuriate themselves,
As the blood flows once more.
It showed me the truth, it showed me his soul, and I understood for the briefest moment.
Then I saw.
Tongue that cut in the roof of your mouth until it flows red with life.
Tomorrow is always a new day, unless you told it to replicate once more.
She'll dance me to death if I follow, and her words are a poison I've never tasted before. Maybe she'll allow me thirty seconds to catch my breath while I study the concept of love and warfare.
By Ben Jones
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