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Sigmand

[Poem] Bubonic, a Sonnet

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Bubonic
 

Reverberant call of the father’s knell
Of which the orphan’s ears do not attend
Deafen each creak of the wooden boards’ rend
Amidst a shroud of the sun’s morning veil.

He casts himself in without a word and
Takes to work of an upbringing less just,
Scavenging value from little but dust.
But fingers go numb with dagger in hand

Approaching a swell under couch covers
“What if they heard, what if they know?” pled Life,
Tugging at the arm, lifting high the knife.
All would be the same, had it been reverse.

Over he ambled then brought still his breath.
For what to the tortured soul is a sin?

And might he have murdered the mortal kin,
Had not it already been plagued with death.
 

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Besides the fact that, ironically enough, I'm necroing a poem about dead dudes, that was actually pretty good. I mean, it was perilously close to sounding like a Soulcaliber character intro, but hey.

 

I give it 3.5 Edges out of 5 90's wrestlers.

 

no_nose_edge-59192.gif

 

[spoiler]P.S. Sonnets are hard, good job on that.[/spoiler]

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