Doom From A Room

Like a saint on the fire
Like a guru's funeral pyre
Just a blur 
Thoughts occur 
In a slur

Like a fog on the bay
Like a hog washed away
It's a mist 
But the gist
Might exist

Like a cat on a rail
Like the next note up the scale
Count to ten
Pause and then
Down again

Like a poet in a loft
Like a sherbet growing soft
Easy now
You've been a wow
Take a bow

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