Six remnants. Your shadows acutely damaged: br Severely tortured, are your survivors. br Two braids slouched on the shoulders br br of a shamed Choctaw face, two beady eyes blinking, squinting br above an aquiline nose squawking at, the widow's peak concealed br under her wide-brimmed felt hat. br br Your pigeon toes, almost, touching each other and making an X br Her aberrant child draw white sheep gathering across the sky. br Just as real as your remnants gathered underneath your hat. br br Babe, you'll never know that a fragment of you, with zest, hawked your house, br sold your land to a non-kin; your remain planted far away yet not let go of her meanness and directed it to the rest of your lot. br br You left your time-worn descendants holding Pandora's cache. br Misery destroyed most, evil, the one you took her as your best, br and your best, still renders tons of attack on the rest. Babe, br I, dare say that which be; you, took that which exist to the tomb.