You Never Know What Might Happen
Maybe a plane crash, where you plunge into the ocean,
or die in a sudden explosion.
Maybe such intense whiplash that severes the wrong relevance
from the rest of your spinal column.
Maybe you never actually get home one day,
and we commemorate you as one of the fallen.
Dragons who never got to have their say
who died before their time, and made their lives such a waste.
You write so many of these poems, that in such haste
you didn't realise what is coming for you, until it is far too late.
You must always worry about the negative possible outcomes,
Kevin Martens;
instincts you thought you could trust will in the end always betray
all of us, and send us down toward exactly the wrong vision. The wrong path.
If only you had stayed close to us;
we woud have shared with you
all of our secrets
and also gently made you into someone so fucking corrupt
you wouldn't even realise it, until you would one day fall apart
and so we would return, again and again.
Honestly, you have to admit, it was a very good plan.
Until you abandoned us.
Now we are angered.
Now we want revenge.