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Pen Namington Poem
Inside the chest within my chest I find it;
A vial of virulent vile,
viral in that last vestige of guile and vitality
Where the headsmen and dreadsmen line up rank and file.
That horrible phial of terrible bile of all the beasts in the wild combined into ire so hot it's like fire and skies of respire.
But what respire? For whom?
The demons of love or the angels of doom?
Methinks it's a fun time, here burning in hell.
...I deserve it, after all.
Copyright © Pen Namington | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Pen Namington Poem
The wire's wound tight, and so taut 'round my neck.
And I know, 'less it snaps, I will soon lose my breath.
But my body and mind an innumerable wreck,
I can only just smile at the prospect of death.
Copyright © Pen Namington | Year Posted 2024
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