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The worms roll over in their homes
     and the birds begin to weep
As the carolers tune their silver forks
     along the great white sweep
While the cows sleep next to bears' heads too
     the night swallows morning's sun
The glittering ground makes not a sound
     when trampled by men of the gun.
©2007-2009 ~MinionOfKetchup
:iconminionofketchup:

Author's Comments

cleaning up my room earlier today, i decided to look through some old notebooks. i found this, have no recollection of writing it, and was wondering if you guys might be interested. here you go!

Comments


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:iconxavrn:
I like it. :]

It has great rhythm and rhyming.

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If you can read this, you're LITERATE.
:iconrlopez10:
Nice. Do you know how old it is?

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if the awesome factory had an explosion, you would be the result -- ComplimentBot 4000
:iconminionofketchup:
judging by the other stuff in that notebook it was about two years ago.

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everybody's dying just to get the disease.
:iconminionofketchup:
thank you!

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everybody's dying just to get the disease.
:iconminionofketchup:
also, thanks :]

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everybody's dying just to get the disease.

Details

November 23, 2007
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