{"id":522,"date":"2003-02-28T07:26:35","date_gmt":"2003-02-28T07:26:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nukemete.wpengine.com\/2003\/02\/sigh\/"},"modified":"2003-02-28T07:26:35","modified_gmt":"2003-02-28T07:26:35","slug":"sigh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/foolish-house.local\/2003\/02\/28\/sigh\/","title":{"rendered":"… sigh"},"content":{"rendered":"
Brought to you by the Goth-O-Matic<\/a> poetry generator, for Ken<\/a>: He who’se smile taunteth me, who’se eyes flash with bitter mockery, who’se back hair singeth a siren’s song (and does the wave<\/i>… it’s disturbing, but cool.)<\/p>\n Devoid of Love <\/b><\/p>\n the night falls without a sound, soulless are we. your passion throbs no more. I die<\/p>\n
\nthe salvation for which you sacrifice yourself
\nflares once, then dies,
\nsmothered by your obsession.
\nall hope must sicken and die.<\/p>\n
\nhow could you fail to believe?
\nangels surround us, crying,
\nsave us from ourselves.<\/p>\n