Cherade.
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Betray me not infidel
to the insolent portrait skies
heavens no pardon
for a walk in the park
The silent wake sparks
a thorn relentless dark
the pity mounds of a dressing tear
I see the shut mouth
in mythic insists
of a sinless being
Like thieves they taunt Him
for His infathomable question
which arose all within good time
The silence breaks
a mother screams
no tokens for steaming horizons
Look over your shoulder
Son, theres none yonder
begone oh treacherous saint
you stommached the vile beauty daint
of leaves and letters let
to adjourn innocence
Upon thee I ammend
the pictures framed no ends
to meet invincible callings
the wild frames set
A done and forget
no treason to die, ahead
So begone now I dread
the critters howling call
a winged feather fall
To fathom deep
the vanished grief
of what I endured
liar's pack ensured
a trip for the lonely
to leave without the known
glorious pity wounds
you tear me apart
to be of you whom bleed
I care not, stead fast
to the shutter of golden wings
living king of worlds
sway thy vengeance upon me
When they come
all there's gone
oh infidel, the dream drop
rain stop, criers luck
He meets me now
with a shadow oblivious
the invane scare hideous
the end is near
Last call for pints
they stirr busy complaints
to the very grave
be brave, listen
a second coming vision
He awaits to reassure
Dressed to fall
I heard thy call
Deem not for whom has eaten
came thus of His beating
the life given in His image
the gates closed
Towards our holy retribution
no news, a ghost's revolution |