Writer's Block Go Fly a Kite
Stifled in this spin of bight
Tongue undone in sudden fright
cannot scream claws holding tight
To twist and stomp with all my might
What is this sorry bloody sight?
So slippery slime that yet can bite
If one could stretch to such a height
to burst though stone and see the light
It's midnight moonless clouded night
an empty graveyard sees my plight
And shudders for this can't be right
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2010
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