The Poison
The poison that praises the phantoms of people
shall also kill the kind kin off kilter.
Be obliged to bless base bums with brevity and brawls of buffoonery
and suck the souls of the saints who sip the sweet sap of swine.
Once more I twist the tale of tempting tempestuous teas that taste of thought and torment,
and whip the wills with woe for one and all aware for my entire enjoyment.
Copyright © Olin Poems By | Year Posted 2023
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