No rule or guideline will stop him,
He is determined to see it through.
Nerves are naught out on a limb,
He’ll see it through.
Should it require interruptions,
Or patiently waiting,
A hook now baiting,
He’ll see it through.
If it brings his flesh to incorruption
By this his last act,
It will happen, he made a pact.
He’ll see it through.
He’ll say hello—ahem—
But for one small problem,
He’d see it done:
The cubicle is an empty one.
©2015 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 