My Time
I should feel that this is my time
To pen reformed and juvenile rhyme
Before it envelops the bliss of slumber
That is the incurable fate of all that live.
I must set aflame in a blossoming ember
Every wick that flames may kiss,
Knowing that it's coming a time
When he might rule that master of crime,
The evil one who shivers at the approach of bliss.
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