Morbid Epistle Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
Morbid Epistle
hit me with your hammer
as many times you may love
dent me into an awful state
i should look terribly ugly
poison my residue little love
arouse abundant angst
a potential mother of anger
kill me with my own piled fire
delight in the relief of the earth!
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: anger,angst
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8/28/2026 2:32:25 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
