The original poetry of Kevin Trent Boswell. from "Morning Flies Far" - Quiet cannibals, eating your sorrows / angels who lift any plagues from your land / mouths that sit, ready for morsels / morsels that come from only your hand / Sing now, with wretched rooster of morning / sing loud of his majesty and curse his name / take small solace in dimwitted knowledge... / no one is salvation and no one's to blame
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