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Submitted on
May 22, 2005
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Within the laughter of the grass,
Lonely sits the faun.  
No longer ecstatic with joy,
Bacchus has died today.  
Whine he no longer drinks,
Slaughter, dripping blood of his kin.  
Ok first of this is personal, so if you don't like it you can suck it. Btw its not journal because its good enough to be in my gallery.
-Angry Sean!
:iconmobilecatharsis:
MobileCatharsis Featured By Owner May 24, 2005
Not to confuse anyone but i did mean Whine not Wine, its more of a nonobvious pun. The Fauns loss of sexual banter.
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