The Curse Poem by Sandra Black

This is what the end sounds like.
And I feel sorry to have wasted my time
A fraud a liar a cad a tripe
He was but dirty grime

May his soul rot in hell
With stench so putrid
Even fallen angels fell
May his rotten heart feel the pain
He caused to each lonely dame

Inveigled, caressed and cajoled did he
Till she was but a shabby copy
Her fine self she did lose
When the devil in him was let loose

Wrinkled and tossed into the bin
His actions have only scalded him
His soul is now scarred and beyond repair
His earthly embellishments just a shell
This time he has invoked the death knell