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Keeper of The Heads

The smell is a fine one;
The death of a traitor
is always sweet
 
I feel the pulse of the cheers
echo through the city
when the mighty fall
or the wretched scum meet their end
 
Then they send the heads to me
Parboiled
Dipped in tar
Beautifully macabre
 
And I get to work
Proudly plying my trade
For there's a colour to my craft
and a heritage I'm proud to continue
 
...

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job selectionLondon Bridgesevered heads

Natural Selection

Natural Selection

 

Outbound

 

I look at them

they look at me

through glassy eyes

that never see

we’ve shared this carriage

many years

never sharing

hopes or fears

I swiftly pass

the guarded gate

and check my watch

in case I’m late

despite producing

dog-eared ticket

the blank faced guardsman

doesn’t click it

I side ...

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job selectioninterviewdashed enthusiasmrejectiontrain traveldepression

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