Poem 001-- Ill Fate// RSD

Ill fate
Ill fate, men
seemingly the spawn of Satan
raptured, recreated in my imagination
fate stayed nightly and gave me pillow conversation
powered by my innovation
the monster that was my creation
Everything I thought I did, for the sake of fate's pleasure
turned out it was mutual masterbation.

Which fear would you stand up to, if you had to face one?
Ill fate, fate's illness coughing in my face, son.

----------------------------

Recommended Song of the Day:
Brand New Jones-- Robin Thicke