Pussyfoot

Well, lost is a relative term.

The heavy assassin a certain

amount of steps away,

a chronic replay of

mush mouth methodology.

On you I see and on you I shall be seen.

Rise up, oh cutthroat,

oh pissy triggerman, rise up!

An avalanche of remorseful rock slide.

An avid avenger of dangerous dark.

And nasty

orange flicked pitchfork the sky…

There is a tomorrow over the horizon waiting

like a fan of peacock feathers.

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