Extension of my Pen

You, knave a supposed libertine?

It points the question confusing sensories,

I won’t be in your seniority

A mindless phase pure savagery.


A couplet is not us

A life for a life complete no trust.


Exiling the pen, quietness in the wind

Is it not wrong the longing for the gun?

The snatched,the silhouette figure

Knave, you have pretense all around


Yet, the slander, is she, due to kin

Frost bite, winters dreary, I don’t pretend


I let missiles speak in a lit form it strikes

Blistering, blaming, blundering

oh! Knave’s head on a spike.

There’s no coming back, not even with a conjuring.

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Love all you readers until next time


Z Jay

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