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A General Warning

Smoke from pursed lips wafts and wends Its crooked path from lung to grave, For a second perched in my trembling hand, Quiet like a wisp of snipe stuck in a hazy bog, Trapped in a swamp of sin and vice, As a cool death eyes my troubled ghost, My wailing spirit, suckled by this dry teat Lit by an orange light, a weary puff blown By a whisp of breath, as pale fire Burns the warp and woof of a tired soul, But days and nights no longer matter, Could that be death at my chamber's door? The call of night too loud to silence, A maddening rap upon the window Of this threadbare, smoke-filled room, Where sleepless on this bed, a casket really, Through the floor I fall, into the ground, Till with a final puff of smoke I am no more.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 10/17/2017 6:36:00 PM
A rich and dark pen :) enjoyed!
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Oliveira Avatar
Henrique Oliveira
Date: 10/17/2017 6:42:00 PM
Thank you!