Poetry From The Weakened Soul
Author: Neil Evans

Chapter 107
Lost Soul

You're such a flawed, hideous misfit.
Everything about you makes me cringe.
What's wrong with you?

I'm such an angst-filled, rotting freak;
But I can disguise all of my hate.
I dress it in your snake oil.

Whoa, it's another spark
To your non-existent flame;
Get away! You're nothing!

You dance like a monkey,
Throw your tantrums.
I wanna see your blood!


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