pigs

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It burns. My eyes are burning. It hurts, When you want to cry. It bleeds. My body is heavy and warm.   Crying is nice. It's safe and Warm. You feel it flow and
Reality is finite Ignorance is bliss Imagination is everything
I rare met a man with a badge and a gun, Who deserved to wear it proudly or even at all, How dare such a man, act with crass and make puns, When he claims to protect and serve but laughs when you fall,
If I were a poet, you would surely know it, Even though this poet, will not show it, He loves to go for it, so here we go. Once upon a time, In a world so clean, with the sky so blue,
    Once upon a time the three little pigs. The three little pigs were old enough to go to college.
When pigs can fly They say They say all sorts of things They say pigs don't have wings Impossibilities are everywhere So imagine when they stand and stare A pig With wings
I'm running for my life. I hear the whirring of the alarms, the screams of the people. I look for a way to run, though all i see are mobs of  pigs, enclosing on me. Then comes the tear gas.
He has such a ways with words when describing his feeling to Her
put aside the crack walk by the crack see the plumber's crack now it is time to see and listen and maybe have a heart attack because my friends degrak is back  
Crow’s Ink  
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