Think Twice

The bereaved soul of a marksman,an infinite torture,

The master’s whip,a mirage of pleasure becomes the delight of leeches;

And the pleasure of deceit is the future squealing of a con.

Betrayal is like a spike behind the culprit waiting to eviscerate,

Web of lies will eventually play the sound of the butcher’s knife.

A cheat is a peat that gives a treat to below the feet.

Infidelity is a sweet art,but a short road to madness;

A thief looses bits of him as he collects his loot.

We are the precursors of our misfortune,in a world of mystery,

Where the pungent odour of our environment is sweet and pleasant,

Many choices, many decisions, many actions, but only ONE LIFE.

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