7.02.2013

The Mask Slips

it is addressed thusly:
A boding.
it reads:
The mask slips
And in between its rips
Is that an eye we see
Or what else could it be
A face that is not a face
Of the human but a trace
And it is gone in a blink
The mask's bright ink
Down the front it runs, runs
For these are surely Moloch's sons.
a postscript is here written:
http://acahnman.blogspot.com/2013/07/texas-capital-abortion-supporters-chant.html?m=1

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