I am the bastard boy

of the World Wars,

born into a violent time

in a violent country.

Violence is what I know.

Violent is what I am.

But don’t worry, mister,

I wont kill you.

My dreams more than satisfy this urge

to lick the bones of the dead.


Contents / Next Poem / Published Works 

By | 2012-01-19T23:11:12+00:00 December 27th, 2011|Last Lambs|0 Comments