"My blood boils in my veins against
the so-called fathers of the country"
-Jean Paul Marat
Blood once boiled in vein
Will later freeze in water.
"A moi! A moi! dearest friend,
He who curdled the linseed,
Hacked away at swan feather
And dipped it in the dark ink:
Leave now! For what is France
But a hard nailed crucifx
Without a Jesus to hang there."
Red as a parisienne sunset,
His button shoe, shallow grave
Took two steps to the side.
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