

When I read the old MastersWhen I read the old MastersWhen I read the old Masters
When I read the old Masters Even disputed ones, title given posthumously For admirable effort in war of living as they are I feel words slipping past my mind, stealthily Turning senile at twenty-one. I turn to a hag, croaking, mind's teeth all false.
The Masters speak of graves turning green grass to Winter And Winter stopping to give way to Spring Green grass giving and returning Graveyards going to the earth Giving back children born in homes Born over dead bodies, a foundation of bones.
They speak of hows and whys
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Mushroom's Manga - official site for my manga, comic strips, and fanart
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