Outstanding torment withheld with spells expressed
with chastised bells- But fret not reader, all is well in
this..well of hell- shells expel leaving spirits to dwell as
well- Fleeing from the scene of a fabricated dream I
tell- Tales of potential exploits..Is there not hope?
Succumbing to the moshpits of oppression my inner
demon holds to life's confession- Leaving brands of
progression with a slight impression..it looks as if I've
lost my direction, so I look to the skies and I rise like
and erection-
Despite the affection I fight the infection,
to fight and keep stepping I write the connection-
Between newbirth and old death, Tall hope and
small dreams.
Prophetical visions display the future in all things.
My countenance-
gives off the past because present life is too difficult-
all accounts of it.Crimson skies bleed the blood of life's
hardship- commencing life's chronicles as it sticks to me
like barnicles...LIFE!!-
Is a pot-o-gold as long as it doesn't tarnish you, as Moses
did I parted through and molded it to particles exposed
the shit to articles, the truth is approaching- Speeding..
weaving- without reasonable being so why the denial?..
when the more tribulations fought only heighten the
trial?
I pardon you to fathom-
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