poem: Swine
Swine You are not everywhere, Not in every hellbitten scowl Not in every forced call You never laid a finger on me I’ve no hoof-shaped bruises, anyway. How you spared the rod In favor of your Acid Hear my ungrateful whine? Swine! The scheming face of swine! No I will not see a boar’s visage On the... Sign in to see full entry.