Bounty Hunter (a poem by Jack Sniffles)

Maybe she’s here to gather a soul on the edge… Why let it go to waste when you can gather it’s remnants as your own…

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Death isn’t what they suppose it to be.. They say I’m selfish… The nerve of them to even claim rights to my existence in my inexistence…

Oh… It’s the repercussions I must fear?

From who? Lol….

Well if she feeds off misery, she will have none here… If she feeds off self-loathing, she will have none here.. If she feeds off the aftermath of wasted potential, well she may get more than she can handle..

But what’s mine is mine, and no one else’s. If I no longer want it, then I can destroy it with no guilt…

And that alone provides a source of satisfaction… An inspiration in a sense…

Ironic..

The idea of some type of morbid attainment…the only attainment is freedom from myself… And the prison I so conveniently created for myself… A self-referential pattern of thoughts and beliefs that keep me confined.. Constricted…

And reduced to a blob of me…

So she may be here to gather a soul on the Edge…But does she want the responsibility that comes along with it…

Perhaps she may see me for me… Shed the filth and simply repackage my core.. Bundle me with another and sale us as a bargain bundle pack…

Two souls… For the price of one…

Twice the despair and half the hope….

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