james howard Poems

Carrion eaters, of dead and rotting flesh, who pick the bones so clean.
Vultures of the air, whom in flight so majestic seem.
Who purge from sight the ugliness of deaths unsightly gore.
And I alone into the heavens, as these mighty birds do soar.
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Memories resurrected of long and bygone years
Of truths and lies and of blood and tears.
Monsters from closets of a childs hidden fears.
Monsters imagined and monsters that be real.
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