The Fiend

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I take your fabrication
With a grain of salt,
Generator of lies –
Your artillery depleted.
In the gutter,
I watch you drown;
A mercurial creature,
Lost in your own ego,
Soaked in a bilious
shade of black.
Curl up into a fetal ball,
Tendrils of
willowy seaweed
Pull you down into your own squander…
A ghost of what could have been,
You are nothing but
a repulsive fiend.

©Y.E.S 2013

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