Fire rages, and bonds break loose
conscience cracks, and the Hangman’s Noose
appeals to more than just the mind
to leave this cruel cruel world behind.

Into the night, beyond The Wet Grave
the soul soars, rides the wave
of the spirit’s high, the devil’s grin;
seeing without, reaching within!

An internal inferno burns and ignites
a glance at the window, its not even night…
I must have started a little too soon,
and now? unto death, Death in the Afternoon.

Darkened skies, spectral visions
my body host to fusion… fission?
to the ‘tender I then cry
“it is time for the Last Goodbye”


Poem copyright protected, and the property of Rambling Poetry, and not to be used without permission.


2 thoughts on “‘tender

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