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On a sea of blood
The red boat floats
The old man mumbled
Stood to cast his nets wide
His master demanded souls
The old man growing weak
His nets with holes, hoping
To make his Master's quota
Head in hands he knew
His Master would count
The count of souls to bleed
Boat on a sea of blood
Red boat began to rock
From the deep dolphins came
Pushing Putin's boat askew
He held on to golden seats
Dolphins increased their attack
They came from God afar
Putin screamed in dismay
Falling overboard, fateful day
Down, down drowned in blood
Innocent souls free at last
From the red maw
Satan ground his teeth
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Author Notes
Contest Entry for No rules poetry: My rendition of the demise of the would-be King of the World.
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Aussie
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Aussie
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