(POETRY) The pulsing fog

The pulsing fog, it sends me deeper
Quickly to a place I'd rather not be
The rise of life, it's growing steeper
It strips my eyes so I cannot see

The pulsing fog, I'm yet to escape
Hanging in prison for crimes of lust 
The rapture of screens, the cult of rape
My time in here is due and just

The pulsing fog, it's killed my meter
Ensemble of nine, to hell with all
And I'll just hope and pray that I rhyme
And hope the worms, remember my time

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