Her
heart is a bog, cruel and ugly to behold,
a bottomless pit from which you could never hope escape,
populated by rats and snakes, sickened with disease;
it festers and it percolates
--the stench alone could kill you dead.
And if you don’t believe me, you are a bigger fool than I am.
Her heart is a bog pulling you down.
If you survive the smell, you will be swallowed in a slime,
slowly devoured one excruciating bite at a time.
As you drown in the muck,
you reach your arms out for a line.
She looks down at you, smiles and waves goodbye.
And if you don’t believe me, you are a bigger fool than I am.
Her heart is a bog pulling you down.
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