Orphans

The children
With black tongues
Walk endlessly

Their bare feet feeling
Over jagged rocks
Acting upon them

Cold
Refined edges
Unrelenting

Extracting and pulping
Their unhardened flesh
Their blood

Is what makes
The ink we print
Our money on

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
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