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Transylvania

Michael Marchese

By Michael Brandon MarchesePublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Is there no one else

Who can match my revision

Or best me in combat

And wars of attrition

Waged on blank pages

Engaged against foes

Of the lewd and loquacious

A murder of crows

To poetry ravens

Of my nevermore

The ink that I bleed

Oozes out from each pore

And spills to the floor

With each succubus kiss

I will drip from your lips

On the tips of your tongues

Are my Dracula trips

Which mirror the words

Of my undying curse

A lifeless reflection

Of my multiverse

Forever condemned

To a coffin of night

Painstaking my heart

With each word that I write

sad poetry
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