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These words

falling flowers

into the night

these letters binding

building prisons

to protect me from the light.


I sing the songs so quietly

and I barely know they're there

but the thorns rip in sublimely

and I'm bleeding unaware.

I cannot remember

the beauty of the dawn

so I paint crooked pictures

upon these prison walls.

I have seen the irovy towers

are built of humble flesh

and darkness that moves in shadows

feigning death.

I have known the sorrow

of the masses underfoot

and I have seen the horror

I had bartered for a look.

So many nights I've trembled

cold sweats and concrete floors

Imaginings I have tendered

I can pretend no more.

I had been the wretched

I had been a paltry King

I had been elected

but had not led a thing.

I had felt the pangs of hunger

false piety of ancient lore

gluttonous and ravenous

I am these things no more.

And now I give this fear to the fire

This Love like no other beneath the nails

and pity to the funeral pyre

because the pyre never fails.

I had surrendered madness

to the grave where it belongs

that I may watch my sadness

turn to gladness in these songs.









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