Flimsy Mackrow


1. Flimsy Mackrow

Flimsy Mackrow never had to sing
His way past the office set down on him.
For he had no gift of old soothsayers
To lie through the grit of such fetters,
But gift did he have, shone in his eyes,
That will grotesque, to which demons arise,
And the blood on his path would seep in
And grow, towards a new life below.

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