By Dean Kuch.
Reject me not or I’ll become,
a wretched thing, my feelings, numb.
A refuge dump, a hate machine,
forsaking faith, a wraith obscene.
Reject me, I shall be reborn
of something frightful, fraught, forlorn.
Despicable, of vile things.
Explicable, since hatred sings
of feelings foul, a fetid fume,
a soured soul, a lead balloon,
that cannot fly, nor can it soar
forever chained, a hallowed whore.
Malignant minds force me below
to darker depths where none should go.
I’d rather love, my mantra be,
but gods above rejected me.
DEAN KUCK, born Harold Dean Cook II, is 55 years old and lives in a rural farming community. Born to Lena and Harold Cook, Mr. Kuch has two younger brothers. He also has five adult children. He is the willing slave to two miniature dachshunds, Frank. E. Furter and Tippy, and one mean, old Chihuahua, Gidget.
Published works: Tales Of Horror On Halloween Night