The Claymore
And I have yet to see a man
With eyes the kind to see the sight
Of red that is in love.
Be it he may be deaf or dumb
He will see to me beyond the grave
And beseech my dreams at night.
He will undoubtedly be
My Untimely Lasher
With no cause of death but
The sounds of his own beloved hands.
Copyright © Samantha Mcdougal | Year Posted 2006
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