[r.]
The straight of the leg
The curve of the 'r',
Whispering of secrecy of which that is forgone.
The terrible secrets.
Terrible indeed.
Oh-so terrible, too deep to foresee.
And so the wild beasts charge,
And the lion kings roar,
And the small deer Bambi will cry with all it's might.
Cry the secrets.
Cry 'till hoarse.
Cry indeed, too weak to foresee.
And so the leg of the straight.
And the 'r' of the curve.
Will charge and roar and cry 'till hoarse.
YOU ARE READING
Still Sane
Poetry"... But that's okay, because despite all of this, I am still sane."
