At love’s behest

Filthy little heart,
slimy obnoxious slug,
dead rotting corpse,
oozing on the rug;

Black stained rainbow,
shriveled sweet raisin,
buried under quicksand,
naked and a’brazen;

Dry thorny vines,
wrapped around the blob,
squishy and squashed,
heinous little slob;

With nefarious intentions,
squirming in my chest,
spreading his sickness,
at love’s behest.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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