Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
The Stage
Hands push me through the veil and into sight
Is this footlight
just a little too bright?
No? You say just a light?
Then surely my dress is a little too tight?
There is no white knight
to save me from my plight tonight
or to protect me with his holy smite
The many eyes stare, waiting for a fight
or a fiery smite to set me alight
Maybe they will at the stroke of midnight
Can I argue legal right?
Infringement of copyright?
Perhaps ready to indict tonight?
Is my plight too trite
for protection from the might
of the light?
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