Monday, April 25, 2016

THE BIRDS


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THE DEAD will rise soon.
The birds know the score.
They rise in the night
To take blood and more.

The winds will blow hard.
THE DEAD will walk tall.
The waves will rise high.
No one left at all.

We can run and hide.
Yellow through and through.
We can stand and fight.
Are you with me too?

We decide right now
What our plight will be.
I don’t want to die
Or washed out to sea.

Wolf approaches first.
Beast in beauty form.
Takes me in his arms.
Time for us to mourn.

THE DEAD GAME

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