*ode to the ladies with pens as swords* she bore the scars of writings wars and when shed totaled up the scores, she found her pencil came up shy and shed need tell another lie to fill the page like some dark mage will wave the wand oer waters deep to raise from depths the beasts that sleep and suddenly the balance gains her favor and theres naught remains; she types the end and gains thereby relief and lets out one long sigh ©2014 by Monty Wheeler
Posted on: Wed, 02 Jul 2014 20:48:58 +0000
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