07 February 2015

No You Don't

It starts in my head
this growing sensation
strange voices that spread
taunting through temptation

The constant flirtation
my mind they misled
too much aggravation
I lash out instead

Was flesh that I shred
heightened my elation
got covered in red
to hell with damnation

Look there's my creation
just laying in bed
through close observation

I concur, he's dead

Copyright © 2015 by Patrick B Vince

Quadrilew Quatrain Poem

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