September 4, 2012
by Sorrows In A Serenade
Eyes turn to stare
At the new fish on the street
Dirty brown, ragged, dusty, filthy.
A pure-bred,
A perfect addition to their collection
In the tank.
Joining the ranks of four others,
A school, lined up in neat row.
Body after body after body after body after body
Resting on their tails – fish have no legs.
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August 21, 2012
by Sorrows In A Serenade
You are a murderer.
Your hands,
Your body, are
Stained with blood
And its rusty copper metallic scent.
Exotic, you say.
Look in your closet,
The evidence is there.
A skeleton.
Declaring your malicious cruelty
You proclaim your elegance,
You say you’re “high-class”
How apt, to live miles away while others do your
Dirty work
To satiate your craving wants.
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