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  • Published: 10 Nov 2013
  • Updated: 10 Nov 2013
  • Status: Complete
Okay, so the title may seem completely unrelated to the poem but it's not. The poem is about an illness, a mental illness. I won't tell you too much or that'll leave nothing to your imagination now will it?

Enjoy, feedback is appreciated and will be returned. :) -PoMe


1. Disease

Indigenous to the savannah,
The lion paws, claws
Roars its way,
Towards the dull light
Of death.


It shines hopelessly,
Weaving tales
Of lost love,
Jaws reaching open
To snap shut on writhing souls.


It is disguised
As a graceful end;
But the fur is coarse
Upon touch;
All is not as it seems.


A deer spooks,
And the lion drops,
Awaiting its next meal
Another soul
About to be captured.

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