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I have a last name
that bore me pain
so I don't use it much
except for necessary things
I use to think
that it was a good name
until it turned into
devilish wicked things
I stood in a circle
of hail like an ouroboros
biting his tail
awaken by the sound
of a stone hitting
the bottom of a well
the rotting corpse
I can still smell
deep in the mist
of closing in walls
who was I going to tell
I was just as crooked
as the crack in the
Liberty Bell
like a glass that
did not break when it fell
secrets bound and tossed
into wishing wells
something smells
in garbage pales
though this may rhyme
it is not a tale
the reason I made
my name hard to tell
wouldn't you if the devil
had a plot with your name
written on it in hell
