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Untitled

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 30, 1999, 09:03 (Saturday)

Copyright © 1999 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


Once upon a dreary, foggy morn
A savage, mutilated son was born
In a city rumbling to cock-eyed beats
A thousand spectators wait in their seats
Hoping for a spectacle which to spy
All they saw was a young man start to die
His face was set, his visage forlorn
Once upon a dreary, foggy morn



I had meant to continue this in further stanzas, but never did. It must stand alone.



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