2023年06月07日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 559th. week

In the sky, a flying kite leads, to his grave.
Ter in die, for my savage mother, care with bedpans.
Pieces in red, from the air vent, gushing out.
Taking a bullet in his guts though, just singing always he does, the heard-hearted sergeant.
With her black hears, tied to a rope, a woman she is. Or, by her black hears, being arresrted, a woman she is.

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