Death
Death be not arrogant,
even though thou art bind man in thine shackle,
celebrate not over me,ye bloody mutant,
thy stems and roots and leaves,shall I tackle.
Death be not haughty,
for thou art a disdainful bastard,
over me,your powers are getting rusty,
thou taketh everything, even them small as mustard.
O'death you came to me last night,
and broke my mug,
even in twilight,
and stained my rug,
with your filt,
and your shog!
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