Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Piles of pages sitting heavy on your chest Like a mean older brother cutting off your breath All of them waiting for you to cry "uncle" Kicking up your knees, you only want to breathe

Not wanting to die under the backside of truths Arguing angrily over who's heavier ink
And all you can do under little puffs of chest Is think how desperately you want to move As the chatter of ink slowly kills you

Clearly, you know, the only means of escape Is something hardly ever uttered in games An Expression of humourless pain And all the pages fall to the floor

A smile comes to your face When you repeat your redeemer: "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" As you drool and play like a child

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