The End
My good friend is a friend until the end, With as sharp a wit as the viper’s fang, Slithering, sniveling, silent to send The blasting bell that bellowed blaring rang. Mourning procession marched with possession, All in black, emerald drakes in a row. Hear the silent solemn priest’s confession, All in red, tied up with rubies and bows. Ecstatic envy excites the eclipse, And so we kiss under ebony sun, Falling into an infinite ellipse. In her cauldrons, she is spellin’ my fun. With her crooked nose and green mottled skin, You shall know, my friend, that this is the end.