Through roof of my
House.
It rains fire shortly,
Everything is charred.
Oh! Pain is an
Old friend.
He has a stylish entry.
You should see him
Leave though.
Like an exit wound
Of a high caliber gun.
He snatches a pound of
Flesh for his dinner.
He cooks it fine.
But the amount of
Salt he puts is extra hurt.
For which I'm not
That prepared.
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