Someone's blood was spattered on the wall
A foul miasma hovered, covered over all
The scattered parts might once have been a man
Now dead because he'd rhyme, but would not scan.
My strength is as the strength of eight --
My heart is nearly pure.
Last edited by Marcus Bales : 09-15-2005 at 12:26 AM.
Reason: writing: the agony of spending the morning taking a comma out, and the afternoon putting a comma in.