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.
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