Thy Death, Poetry
Machiavelli's false theory reigns supreme,
I have no use for your marbles,
So economize your garbles!
What use has a mannequin of a dream?
The dull green top, it spins in fuddled haste,
True beauty's torture in its stagnant jig,
Gulp! Don't savour the devil in the taste,
The plot's been bought and now it's time to dig.
Fare thee well and may ye always be merry
on thine voyage to your darlings, Poetry.
Copyright © Al Amin Abdul Moin | Year Posted 2016
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