This was a villanelle once. I think it's better this way.
The Fall
He went before to burn in Hell.
He drooped and dropped and then he died.
The good Lord smote him in his pride,
Pride comes before a fall. He fell,
With dancing devils to abide,
In everlasting fires to dwell.
Being left with nothing else to sell.
He sold his soul. At least he tried,
The moving finger moves to spell
Naught for your comfort is supplied
And nowhere else is left to hide.
The Wrath of God was loosed pell-mell.
It’s hot in there. It’s cold outside.
He left a charred and sooty smell.
He went before to burn in Hell.
He drooped and dropped and then he died.
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