Panic, where it should not be.
To what end doth this day’s deed persuade?
Proclaim; acquaint thee with infallible certainty, thy mischievous intention.
Irrevocable deeds, incommodious in their timing, throw turmoil my gut and my mind enslave.
Rancour runs thick at thee.
Comments
3 Responses to “Panic, where it should not be.”
Leave a Reply
I don’t know whether I fully get it or not, as my knowledge of English has wavered slightly since I started doing things involving numbers. But I think I get it. Thanks, Ceekay. I am trying.
I’m glad someone gets it…
sounds good tho :)
T’was written by my own fair hand. None of that plagiarist idiocy.