DEVIL

my bloodshot veins..
of this anger so tame..
what is it to you that I'm not the same..
hold your opinions within your mouth cavity..
or let me sew your cheeks together..
you're more wicked than me..
dear person..
burn in the velt of hell..
you self~righteous devil..

{by the way velt means a vast field of grass.. dried grass.. it's afrikaans ..}

{justin dean kidson poemz}