by Emmit Other
Danger comes in many forms
Etheric gestures of dramatic norms
Octave four in the spirit realm
Story magic might underwhelm
But we are characters
In someone else's play
Drama demons will have their say
Murder my writer
And make the fucker pay
A bloody plot knife I weave to slay
I am the author of my fate
I am tired of dead dog upon my plate
My bloodlust for these things will not slate
Until they begone from my estate.
No comments:
Post a Comment