I endeavored to taste life’s honey

During last month’s decline,

While you exercised your birthright

With teasing’s of impending doom.

Oh, you are no hooded stranger

Foreign, or otherwise, you are known-

A terrorist, knock, knock, knocking

At the tomb- imposing your nature on me.

Through the murk and muddles

I found you instead of the horizon.

Little jeweled pill box- adorned just so,

Acquainted with your interior many times over.

You melt through evil’s delights-

Seeking praise and mass exposure.

Your form has graced my tongue,

And oh, you give a good show.