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L'Avalanche

With the furious rage of a thousand Winters,
A sea of injustice, waiting at the spout.
Like the irritated bite of a good man's splinters,
That swindle and split when sweetly plucked out.

The frost-fangs froth into an empty grave,
And leave all, cowering below, to their bitter end.
Sovereign cragsmen, smothered as slaves,
Like a crumbling ship, so desperate to scend.

The mighty Alps, now a fresh garden of bones,
As its prey lie tangled in the ghastly web.
Listen to the innocent and their soft, muted moans,
And slowly keep climbing from your cruel misstep.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




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Date: 5/28/2013 8:34:00 PM
Really creative writing here. You have put pen to paper many times and your ink dries well. I look forward to more of your posts..... Jake
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