A tick and a click are rhyming up in a lame flame,
A thick stick of dry herb is the flame’s aim,
That starts to burn and blatter in a burring pain,
Framed by a grey fog, hiding its disdain.
The mere pain of life urges this hateful act,
Looking for more pain pack by pack,
Claiming if there’s no stop, I want more of that,
Waiting and feeling and waiting and feeling,
The sniff-by-sniff approaching Death.
Benyamin Bensalah
05.10.2018
Well done! Snuffed by a sniff. Death always finds a way… that bastard.
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Don’t insult my dear, my dear. 😂🌹
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😊
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