[sic]

poetry

your faCe in the
throws
of magical attic Rooms
we hid from A
vue
hoPping things might
turn out better than the
flopPing crawling sniffling
you turned out to be
a big dissapointment to most
who knew You

so puh lease return from whence
you came from the pull down
ladder steps up to the hidden third
floor where moth and rust live on FOREVER