I Don’t Want to be like This




I strike the match, I start the show

I spike the punch with poisoned roe

A tumor spreading starts to glow

Your Happiness hijacked by woe


And what new harms will I bestow

Ills that fester, always grow

Your life is held in escrow

I’ll drag you down so deep below


You’ll never see the mistiltoe

Mired beneath seven foot snow

I am your implacable foe

Beware my arctic wind’s harsh blow


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1996


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