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Image for the poem Someone Wicked

Someone Wicked

Living with sharpest fragments
Edged objects hitting walls  
The grenade he somehow calls a head  
The pin pulled from livid scars  
  
The particles hit wide and far  
Collateral damage in the mix  
Blood flowing down the dead end streets  
Walked by whores and charlatans  
   
One clown has his share of qualms  
Dreading a figure in the mist  
A silhouette with electric smoke  
The curl of it now burning bright  
   
The whores head for the dockside bar  
But can barely stand the drums  
A rhythm born of treachery  
Until someone wicked this way comes.
Written by crowfly
Published
Author's Note
Another attempt at surrealism.
The last line is a paraphrase from a witch's incantation in "Macbeth."
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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