Non-Erotic PoetryGrim VisageA proud town plundered
by Visigoths,
Satan dejected
with paradise lost,
That's me,
that's me,
Xanthine,
Grim visage that I've become.
Funny,
the dogs no longer bark,
but instead come as to play
with a bone with meat still on,
yet to be buried.
Perhaps, then retrieved
all savoury with ants.
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