Avhaari's Poo-etry collection by Avhaari | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil

8. Pandoras key

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It might be rare in history, Pandora's key, the mystery.
 
It came to me with ill intent, preparen't my ass was; to defend.
 
The key took steps; throughout the day, with skips and hops; it knew the way.
 
It wont be stopped; not even late, preparing for; my dreadful fate.
 
Miss nature; in; with grace she leaned, filled up her lungs and banshee screamed.
 
Kick off the keys malignity, my life goals shift: "keep dignity."
 
The wind blew by; I bumped; I bashed, I shoved aside; I fell; I crashed, 
through everything; that dared to ask; that had the balls to cross my path.
 
I don't recall, how did I make it? cause at that time; awareness faded.
 
My hands placed firmly; on the walls, as echoes danced; my screams; my bawls;
 
I saw the light, I felt my soul, the key unlocked Pandora's hole.
 
The peace now gone; as it began; my eyes rolled back; in tongues I sang.
 
In twisting halls of agony, the flows starts strong; more came to be.
 
What sourced the reason to transpire, such violent movements; burning fire.
I pass the thought, my posture meek, vile; ghastly; things, flow out for weeks.
 
I stress the sewage treatment system, the world unites; collective wisdom.
 
T'was naught enough, the flow kept on, the end began, our chances gone.
 
Our country's first, more to come to pass, the world snuffed out, Pandora's ass.

 

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