General Poetry posted December 29, 2017

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The devil is buying.

Sell my Soul . . .

by Dolly'sPoems

Sell my Soul . . .

How fickle life, so rife, then gone,
slow then fast, past runs are done.
In leisure, treasure recalls,
and tomorrow, sorrow befalls.

We learn and earn our rightful place,
give birth, on earth and leave our trace;
For sun we croon, salute the moon,
hearts in tune with love's perfume.

When day is done, fun will rescind,
our spirit pangs, hangs in the wind;
Bereft, upset, reset and on,
our sons in turn are next for fun.

Release me from that date with fate,
sign on the line, I won't be late;
A few more hours to smell flowers,
so short the day, pay for more hours.

So precious time, fine, yet so short.
When young, our tongue can not be bought,
so's not to fade, trade with the man,
with pitchfork, tail and evil plan.

Death sours with pain and disdain,
when there's a cloud, there's always rain.
So ring that dreaded bell of hell,
and take my soul, it's mine to sell.


Dont be alarmed folks, Im just musing and this is just a bit of fun . . . Buying more hours by selling my soul to the devil, as if I would He he he . . . .
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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