MaestroMature

Maestro

Oh Death I greet you like a
friend!

For have I not,

Given you so many songs to
sing;

 

Atom bombs,

Mustard gas,

And the simple, brutal, rock?

 

But you are ever-hungry,

Your gaping maw so wide,

You wish me to create more
symphonies for you,

What shall I decide?

 

The orchestra is playing now,

My mind is all a-whirl.

I'll immolate my fellow men,

 

I'll irradiate the world.

The End

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