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The angel
Draws the Glock
With a swift flick of motion
Pulls the trigger—
A bullet rips through your core~
As it strikes
The truth unveils
The show begins.
You kick and slam,
But the enigmatic door remains~
You gave it your all,
Concluding the telecast,
Your white sore in a red hole—
Rot, maggots, and gore.
A true crucifixion of your soul.

~Burning in vengeance~

Now you face the mind~
A chasm carved by arrogance.
And now,
I become the angel—
Trigger poised in suspense.
I don’t love being wronged but my love still beats strong!
I don’t love to exercise
but I love being fit and alive!
I don’t love sour grapes,
but if they’re good for me
I’ll take a plate.
I don’t love death and Gore, and I surely don’t love war, But I do love a strangers smile, won’t you come and sit a while?
Traveler 🧳 Tim

— The End —