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September Roses Jul 2018
Oh sickly poisonous flame
Darting back and forth
I hear you call my name
It's not what they think, for what it's worth

One slip of the finger
And a tingling sensation
Smells of gas linger
Now for use of personification:

Its seems that you love me
For you never let me go
I feel pitiful in your embrace
And it seems that you know

You always take control
And oh how I'm fascinated by your flame
Skin swells and pain holds
In this endless torture game

— The End —