This Misbegotten Gallery
They tried to kill me;
brothers, sisters, lovers, wives,
supposed saints, obvious infidels,
blood relatives and vampire friends
But I ran like hell
down an unending hall,
on fire,
waving a pistol
All unsure
if my intent was to shoot myself
or them
A rhetorical notion
considering this misbegotten gallery
were all long dead to me
already
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