Malevolence
Never in all the years
Of the long dying day
Will I falter before that cruel voice
Or countenance the black despair
That rises from the deep cesspool of fear
Gorged on the churning cauldron
Of malevolence and hate,
Never in the bitter dying day
In all the torment of the soul
Twisting and turning on a restless bed
Will I countenance that hideous voice
To utter a single word,
Under the cold clear heavens.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2019
25/12/19
Copyright © W.A. Cholt | Year Posted 2019
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