12 June 2012
Many a times in my infinite dreams, Symbols appear in neat black rows. They crept in, stern and grim As if they were heralds of important news
I shut the door in their faces, For they are rude, arriving unannounced. I abhor them for their lack of graces, And their smug grins slipped and slithered...
...Off to the ground, where I trammel them to their untimely deaths.
Symbols • Opuss № I