Curse 1

An outburst Wishing one the worst, In malice, very rich: A virgin becomes a ! Of envenomed spite In no way light, Recipients to weep a river of salty tears And at intervals nurse uncanny fears… “Another isn’t going to meet a smiling tomorrow And in abject misery wallow; In ruinous disease waste. And a gruesome death taste” All the “To hell with you” And “You shan’t be of any use”. Always a verbal offensive throwing its punches With the boxing gloves of Natural Laws Or of feared deities parading evil jaws A propensity man from God had picked Except that when he utters it his lips are contentedly licked; At all times a sequel to some lost temper, Which on both sides would progress hamper; Wire of nerves suddenly tautening… Or a patience into two snapping Sometimes stupidly returning empty, As the cursed still is clad in the dainty; No life nor the like eroded For having from unjust lips exploded.