Correct: His bloody life in my bloody hands, It tastes like sunlight, It's a huge nothing that we fear, All flesh is grass, I met a traveler from an antique land, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear, A huge peak, black and huge, And her looks went everywhere, If buildings were paper I might feel their drift, Which had been the better way to die, Bandage up me eye with me own history, Into the jaws of Death, His terror's touchy dynamite, Your playground voice catching on the wind, Merciless iced east winds, Incorrect: My bloody life in his bloody hands, It smells like sunlight, It's a small something that we fear, All grass is flesh, I am a traveler from an antique land, The man-made chains I feel, A massive mountain, big and massive, She flirted with everyone, What if we built with tissue, How he would rather have died, Blind me from me own history, Into the lips of Death, His horror's jumpy explosive, Your childish voice dancing on the wind, Merciful icy chill,

Poetry Whack a Mole

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