Poetry From The Weakened Soul
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 71
What Makes Me Dangerous

Black velvet wraps around
A blank, red box of agony.
Inside is a present left for you.
Don't lie to me again.
Wish, wash, splish-splash,
You move through me
Like a roaring tide.
My mind is filled with
A strong love, and an
Evil urge to kill.
That's what makes
Me dangerous.

 

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