What an engulfing death
That patches my throat,
Set my hands and finger crashed,
Which burn steadily.
The canivore flower
Deep Aloe, Deep skin
Decaying my immune steadily,
Not for me to pant heavily,
Just as I touch;the death awaits easily.
The most dangerous and prettiest.
This sight is yet middling.
The touch of you,
Exactly going to the Lion's den,
Which means catastrophe awaits the Hen.
Even it's branches is enough,
To give screeching noise
Asit poison penetrates to the immune.
Now the cerebrum looses intellectual.
At this stage the poison ivy has you.
By: Momoh khadijat opeyemi