She looked at me askance and said
That I was unremitting
In trying to bring back the dead
Which, to her, seemed quite fitting
In that my singularity
Was my macabre mind:
A case for prolotherapy
A corpse beneath the rind
She looked at me askance and said
That I was unremitting
In trying to bring back the dead
Which, to her, seemed quite fitting
In that my singularity
Was my macabre mind:
A case for prolotherapy
A corpse beneath the rind