well here i am in the, wars again,

is it true only the dead can help you;

or hurt, their hands, dirty & scratching,

i battle through a martyr myself, a blackwidow too

they say, at least you were spared,

the freezer not like max, the poor fickle bastard

watch your language poll your anger,-  imagine most ts,

silent, each, h, dropped.

every th become a f or a v.

you went to earth with love, again unlike some

unlike a lot that do it to themselves

it was the only way,

to kill the cabbage in your head,

i nearly said flower but flowers too romantic.