Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
A Work Story
He stood still
For thirty laborious years
To let the blood drip;
Eventually, it stopped
But not before
He lost his mind,
Tangled in a serpentine grip.
She could not cope,
Not with him like this
So she grew wings
And the children,
Trapped in confusion,
Despised the monster
He had become.
In his final hour,
He surmised:
The ordeal would be tolerable
If I had not given my soul.
Over time,
The entity faded,
But not before it duplicated itself.
poem
by
Buxton Shippy
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black