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2013-05-07 | 8:35 p.m.

Morbid noose
Of fetid cords
Moved forth
Across the floor.
Silent kicks
Or bloody pours
Baits the breathless hoard.
A beastly roar,
The Lord adored,
Decrees
The gift of gore...
I'll sorely settle
Sordid score-
And fall upon my sword.

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