Poem – Poison Dwarf

The kobold sits,


Hunched over the toadstool,

Lined face and beaver teeth,

Face pinched from two few meals,

The language of blood and dirt,

Kobold rejects mate,

For non would impregnate,

This foul, hunkered goblin,

This pestilence-pest,

This rancid, repugnant rendering,

A travesty of life which blights my sight,

And makes dead the music of the living,

The kobold-goblin,

Infects, is a pest,

Conceived from incest,

Anger suppressed,

A foul, fleeting meeting,

The temperament test 


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