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Oh hath thine twisted mold through twilights' edge perceived?
Descendence merely be the stone from which thou build,
Carried on ashen wings of deciet; thine souls inclined retreat.

Glory has it, so doth life, the rot in which thou seethe,
Truth lies there on the periphery, resplendent, beckoning those whom seek;
Not with illumination of mind but lust of heart, awakened through teeth.

A vanguard of pain holds thine essence there,
Nurturing that which is weak,
So embrace brother, as embraced thou be and life eternal shall greet.

Fri vers av Kieran
Läst 266 gånger och applåderad av 2 personer
Publicerad 2011-10-29 17:08

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