Best Poem of Ocklawaha Holt

The Vampyre
A black soul
The blackest of hearts
Filled with black blood
Black as the night in which he came
A monster in mans body

A vampyre
Thirsting after the reddest of blood
He came for me and I ran
But I could never run fast enough

And now I wander
with a black soul
And the . . .
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They are cows. Plodding along until their next meal.
Waiting, Watching, for someone to pay attention to them.
But no one ever does for long.
Because they are:
Looking at the world with blank eyes;
Because that is how the world sees them.
A waste of flesh and space, that's it.

When inside, passion . . .
Read the full of Fat