Cthulhu Wept
Every day is better than the next.
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The Bone Orchard
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Poem: "For the South"
When the blood-gold
Piled on my lawn
Is swept away by white,
I turn to the south and shiver.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Oh, hey! I finished the cycle! Look at me go.
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