Honestly, I'd be concerned
If months passed and I didn't see
A single death threat come from you.
Your threats are not unknown to me.
---
Your poem, though, left me unnerved
And I admit I'm sick at heart
To think of that poor poem butchered
For deeds in which it had no part.
---
Please, have mercy! Please, no more!
At the very least, learn how to write
A limerick where the syllables match.
Don't torture poems for your spite.




Penned by my hand on the 12th of Sarapin, in the year 524 AF.