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