The Great Pestilence

Thanks to Wikimedia Commons for the photograph.

an arid personality of time
in which does dwell a fateful anarchist
the eyes, a torrid swirl of hate and this
a never ending, falsely pretty rhyme

it’s death in all her incarnations miss’d
who rides upon this heavy laden brow
the nightmare from a passing broken howl
my life is lost within the dark abyss

a battle rages on so broke with cyst
to-ward a terrors long forgotten fiend
the smile, endless wicked teeth gnash-ing
to bring the nocturne here, eternal bliss

eyes empty stare outside a soulless urn
to look inside and see themselves so burned


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