Replying to a comment on:
The Voice of the Night (dedicated to Mr. PIG)
(
Free verse
) by
Sylvia Bravo
When dusk came down The grey assassin howled And vomitted the wool Of his meal of: sheep. Like the predator, I too consumed sheep--milk. Then I danced around and sang "Mee Mee Mee Meeeeeeeee" And then my hair became his next vomit.
god'swife
22-Feb-03/2:37 PM
You should write a poem about a woman who is such a psycho telephone stalker, people have to change their home phone numbers to avoid the bitch. Never mind, you'd do a crappy job because you're a terrible writer, and an even worse human being.
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