left
to imagination's rage
where
there's no right or wrong
at
one time kept safe in a cage
where
temptations weren't strong
a
hungry mist inside my mind
look
in my eyes that's what you'll find
a
hungry mist
a
hungry mist
both
starving and viscous combined
left
to imagination's rage
as
it slowly spills out
dry
tears falling on a wet page
it's
your fault no doubt
a
pound of flesh is what I seek
you
know I have a strong physique
a
pound of flesh
a
pound of flesh
I'd
say your future's looking bleak
left
to imagination's rage
you're
laying in the bed
for
you there is no golden age
pillow
over your head
smothered
laughter stops your heartbeat
the
taste of vengeance is so sweet
smothered
laughter
smothered
laughter
you
are nothing more then dead meat
Copyright
© 2015 by Patrick B Vince
Trijan
Poem
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