Pinpoint Precision
I expect my eternity
To be staggering in the rain
In a desolate city
Where soulless women
Have been stripped
Of their pleasant jewelry,
Their hair no longer soft
To a lover’s hand,
Their hearts devoid of understanding.
I don’t know if Dante
Included this in his Inferno,
But God tortures us all
With pinpoint precision.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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