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FATE AND I

Fate And I

Fate And I

I caught Fate
Scribbling on my parchment
And watched her pencil dance
Out the words ‘Gloom’.

So I came at her
With an eraser
And battered her G
For a B.

Then,
Chalk in aged hands,
She quavered
‘Grief’ on my slate.

But I washed them off
With salted tears
And made my slate
Tabula rasa.

Alas, she came again
Wielding a brush of Black ink
To paint me black ‘Death’
On my canvass.

Laughing, I made me ink
Of spittle and blood
And brush of beards
To paint Flowers in bloom.

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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