The strangled car horns, broken, debonair,

anatole-auschwitz
Worth has not anything to show more sore
Dull would she be or cold who did not rage by
The  broken nuclei in their tragedy
The pity now doth, like  a sick fog wear
The strangled  car horns, broken, debonair,
Whips, towels, combs unneutered   rumpled lie
Unroll the British shields,, we shoot to pray
All quiet yet twittering with a reckless air.
Never did cunning more evilly still creep
As our PayPal; mock not  the plastic  Bill;
Whether I was, whether I felt, a sheep asleep!
The  nerves all heat up as  Trump’s  tweets may kill;
Oh God! all their fuses  blew they’re incomplete
And all  the mighty Courts   with liars fill
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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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