Son of Ham

I care now for silly echoes,
I assume the worst of my best shows,
And of eggs that don’t hatch,
And goldfish that move too fast.
What you’d think if I do what I have long promised in hymns and haikus.
If your death will be any better than mine.
Let us settle this now.
Open your bibles to the Book of Ham chapter 11 vs. 11,
For lo, when the devil’s eyes shall upon my breast rest,
Verily, which mouth doth the Son of Ham use to announce the curtain call?
Verily, which smile wouldst make her see my forever con?
Which flavour of death will make you fear for fools?
How good must thine syntax be in a final death note?
Behold, people of God, a quandary,
Do cowards spell in English or Brute?
For verily, I hereby bestow my best riddle,
Nothing but gospel truth:
A razor. A smiling vein. A gas leak. Go!
That I may be left here merely but bird bones and a lose tooth.

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