deepundergroundpoetry.com
Now I hate him.
The paper is a block of wood.
I stood watching.
I'll not speak of what he may have been thinking, but I heard him recite evil words on small beings.
The mouse was dangling from the glue trap, Already dead in his screaming.
There was no need for torment. Or to draw the torment to my attention.
Now I hate him.
I stood watching.
I'll not speak of what he may have been thinking, but I heard him recite evil words on small beings.
The mouse was dangling from the glue trap, Already dead in his screaming.
There was no need for torment. Or to draw the torment to my attention.
Now I hate him.
Published 3rd Apr 2025
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