No Rest For the Wicked
I am the evil poet
Evil spells conjured
Nine love potions
Potent incantations
Written on scrolls
Bleeding ceaselessly
To bleed is to live
To write is to breathe
With every breath taken
More evil awakened
Devils on the shoulders
Cant be shaken
No mistaking for Christmas
Ghosts the leeching hosts
Life force sucked
Not able to duck
Can’t escape the chase
The noxious race
Ballet of death
“No rest for the wicked”
A snake laying in a
Thicket of lies
Copyright © Lyndell Cadasse | Year Posted 2006
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