179 DegreesA Poem by CrowleyA happy poem....yeah.179 Degrees You squeegee my feelings from your safety glass windshield, cracked Throw them into an ever cooling stew of my emotions The smell sometimes sweet, sometimes desperate Doled out one at a time, in ultra-conservative portions Do you smell that? God damn it….. Emotionally obtuse, one hundred and seventy nine degrees If you would turn and face your own destruction You would see That Rome is burning And I am the keeper of the water You my dear, will make an exceptional pile of ash. © 2010 CrowleyAuthor's Note
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Added on July 12, 2010Last Updated on July 24, 2010 |

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