Thick as the walls of the terradon’s
skull
Where hardly a sound can be
heard of stone
Hardening as a bone is its
conscience
Which never wielded nothing
but the hulls
An outer semblance in
silkened clothing
Shined-up with spit are its
talons and toes
Oh misery oh pity oh clemency
Find you nowhere to cast out
your verses
Those that were delicately
purchased poems
Of Petrach of Shakespeare
whose will it be?
Love without opportunity or hope
It Awakens and begins to
alert
Where there is no happiness a
heart aches
It sounds like a person who
is in chains.
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