Death Returns March 21, 2009
Death returns a nasty elixir
We are each expected to swallow
At the Doctor's behest.
It is not pretty, and in fact,
Is very reminiscent of the last tango
That occurred just a scant week ago.
The books hit hard, box fast,
Laboriously painting a new fixture of us
As we are destined to ride
On the speed train to Hell.
I often wish that if our fates
Are to be so determined
By such an unsightly figure,
That we be given a choice
In the manner in which we are delivered to Creation.
Instead, the most demeaning fashion
Of lost love or no love to wish us peace
Wreaks havoc upon our countenances
And plagues us with fear of the impending factor.
Pain is of the utmost splendor to these folk,
And I dare say that if cursed we be,
We shall remain zombies forever more.
We are each expected to swallow
At the Doctor's behest.
It is not pretty, and in fact,
Is very reminiscent of the last tango
That occurred just a scant week ago.
The books hit hard, box fast,
Laboriously painting a new fixture of us
As we are destined to ride
On the speed train to Hell.
I often wish that if our fates
Are to be so determined
By such an unsightly figure,
That we be given a choice
In the manner in which we are delivered to Creation.
Instead, the most demeaning fashion
Of lost love or no love to wish us peace
Wreaks havoc upon our countenances
And plagues us with fear of the impending factor.
Pain is of the utmost splendor to these folk,
And I dare say that if cursed we be,
We shall remain zombies forever more.
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