Condemned
Curse the poets with oblivion.
They haven’t changed a thing.
There still is war and pestilential greed
In spite of how they sing.
Damn the poets to perdition.
They haven’t fathomed Fate.
The grave is still inscrutable, yet near—
No poet makes death wait.
Banish poets to cruelest torture.
They deserve the rack
For promising your heart to me
When rhymes won’t woo you back.
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