Pamela MacLean
They are spread across all over,
Different things can be sad,
I don’t want to seem overly bitter.
Just let me out of here,
Messenger of the divine punishment;
I am so confused!
Says here he wrote a book,
When he died of a heart attack,
They can neither be fought, nor destroyed.
Sure, it’s messy,
At the very core;
A lot of nonsense,
Some serious evil.
Recycled Poetry 