Mother of marry M and
Rahab’s raven spill shyla

Food for the paper is ink
My hand feels the feeder’s pain

Broken and arthritic to die of flu
Flew flown flutter farm

My old christian hand is back
Why today to feel the pain

Yesterday was just as vain
The mirth is low with hand

If you would understand
Then take a hammer and aim on hand

Identical without blood
Similar with sin

But I am not christian like
Metaphor and simile are for the christ like

I am broken damon with-out
Who is within me and my soul?

My tear is for damon and him alone
He has hurt for the nothing’s sake

Review my pangs of pain
Look to no hue but alone

Has the initial pain of the hammer hit
Do you now know the aspirin vein

Select the intensity on the aspirin
Should I take sixteen today or twelve

If I take twenty my ears will ring
Tinnitus and drummer boy