Cockroach is back. Don't ask.

metadata

code: 0-2257
type: undefined
unofficial name: a poem
date of publication: september 25, 2011
responsible: unknown

data

original text

Front

A POEM

And still they move,
The bodies of the deceased
Under the flames of a burning sun,
Under the ice of a winter moon.

Slow,
Skin covered in sludge,
They crawl.

And still they move,
The corpses of a thousand men
Driven not only by remorse,
But the desire of revenge.

Steady,
Hearts pumping with hate,
They crawl.

Back

The humming won't cover the tracks of those sacrificed for your little experiment.
We know.