Alexander S. Peak

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In a masterpiece of broken glass,

Claude Frédérick Bastiat

Claude Frédérick Bastiat (1801–1850)

My tobacco and milk doth join.

O, wretched milk!  Thou art the hint of death.

And I, I am the butcher.

I am unseen in the state of light.

Little pirates scurry about,

As the school attempts to preach that all’s well.

But I, I am not a fool.

The clouds of doom hath fall’n upon her.

The rapists are calling the shots.

But it’s not the end of her golden glow,

For I, I have my own sword.

Authored 2008 by Alexander S. Peak