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The Scout (Free verse) by wilco

Virgin canvas stretched and torn; a lonely scout upon the shore. Arms outstretched to catch the waves but much too deep to fill the graves. She wanders, aimless, through the wild and comes across a forsaken child. The extraneous journey swiftly ends as darkness falls and Hell descends. Footsteps fading from the sand as the wolves retake the land. The child she clutches to her chest as once again we fail the test.

Dovina 3-Sep-05/9:40 AM
I'm sitting at a bar where there's an internet computer sunk into the bar, with a wireless keyboard and mouse. The black russian is sweet under a hot Texasn sun. Subjected to such adversity, do you really expect me to see some cajun hurricane or the end of mankind. No, of course you don't. Mankind sit all around, all girlfriended or wived. And all you can complain about is a few thousand miserble flooded, crushed lives.




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