The valley is not a pleasant place in my opinion.
Reminders abound of your sins on the ground.
As the blood on your hands drips, it makes not a sound.
“Oh yes, do as you please. You bought it. It’s under your discretion.”
I turned to my wife, sitting down and holding a mirror.
“Which face should I use today dear?”
“The stoic facade, or the grin from ear to ear?”
She mumbled something incoherent. I could not hear her.
The lumberjack, after a hard day’s work,
Turned around to observe his last felling.
A lump in his throat that kept on swelling.
The blisters on his hands remained, with intent to irk.
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