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Alas
In acquiesce, a reluctant you, shadows a waning icon.
tongue tied, treasured moments of unretrofied beings caught mid strut.
Anywhere and everywhere they pray upon
brain fried martyr’s, books merely open, yet already shut.
Inferno, disenchanting gates, intimidating without reason
Murky creatures, they cause no alarm.
Cerulean mixtures cast beyond appeasement
infernal demons cause me not any harm.
Bewildered aching, omnipresent portrait,
silencing any which qualms.
Half hearted, incandescence, faulty culprit
what have you got there, in your palms.
Albeit their many metaphors, I too want to fathom
the purpose of those daggers, the very ones we all scatter from.
Releasing a pithy gurgle amidst a hollowing roar
count one, count two dozen horrors, yet biding in settling their score.
Intimate flame, yee too shall perish, not before he, not before he claims a stake, that wraithy sage.
Primal footings laid beneath us, utter depravity, devitalized fiends.
Sinister forces hath no guts, lacking creativity, unraveling our tightly bundled seams.
Alas, an era of consternation, it too, deserves a lapse,
a lapse in time, a time of anguish.
Counteract, we will, overcoming a perplexity once tarnished,
all bouts lie pending over that there hill.
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