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Horrible Hobgoblins Haunt Harris Household
Our own hagrid (in the corporeal essence of marital relatives) heaves livid rage
like real life harry potter dementors dead set on wreaking havoc
mainly from the zison matriarch in a mental and physical decrepit stage
attributable in part to her four score plus years on a depression riddled life
but mainly on account that her least favorite son in law lacks any income or
wage.
Venomous rage spews forth like a smoldering volcano about to explode
threats to vacate the premises likened to toxic emotions
that bear down like the sword of Damocles or how atlas bore earth as a heavy
load
which chronic onslaught of fiery livid (red hot poker) rage
sets the entire collective family psyche in an awful tortured soulful mode.
Animosity brewed and festered for well nigh going into the eighth year
scant mutually agreeable resolutions prolong this debacle
at the corners of our ability to cope do rent asunder and tear
and last shred of sanity that remains whereby nightmarish demons leer
like haywire bots with maniacal grins their trademark flair.
Wrath batters and assaults without merciless cessation lathered with blame
that we supposedly bleed dry this elderly octogenarian dame
criticism and insults indiscriminately hurled burns like hellish flame
no matter both myself and spouse experience inherent weaknesses
any explanations describing efforts to reaching goals accepted as lame.
Angst permeates while hopelessness drips from every cell
dealing with malice (from blood kin no less) with no salvation this place we dwell
synonymous with living among the dead in I did believe in hell
whereby these retaliatory barbs tossed like hand grenades pell mell
because the old lady this ramshackle house she wishes to sell.
If anybody who read this help us please
An affordable rent such a deal this guy would cease
as a permanent place to live our plight t’would appease.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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