Topo Gigio


Vile - Poem by Topo Gigio

Selfish, is your name.
Self serving, your game.
Cowardice, runs through your vein.
No honour, in that which you gain.

Despicable, what lives in your chest.
Deceit, what hides behind your past.
Worthless, is your word.
Fruitless, not forward.

Topic(s) of this poem: wickedness


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 2, 2017

Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 1, 2019


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