his eyes were were made of fireflies, his heart of sharp titanium

his lips were not as soft as where the break was in his cranium

as tiny raindrops landed dancing, here's what he spoke

"i found god and then he stabbed me in the throat

said, 'that's what you get when you poke, poke, poke'"

it's same as it ever was, the same as it's wrote

the killer's hands are as holy as the body that they smote

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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