can kill me...but not my poetry...

Do whatever you wish to do
with me...hack me...
nail my back to the stone wall...
throw me from thirteenth floor-
an ideal case of freebody fall...
tie my hands with a string of steel
with electric saw elaborate a kill...

still
Can't take my poetry away
from me...
for in my little red blood corpuscles
which under microscope look like dots
quite curiously chemically caught
rhyme and visions reside in peace
killing me won't stop them from germination...
killing me would only set them in hectic motion...
they would with the flow of blood
spill over the town...causing a flood!

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