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Girlamo Barbato Dec 2020
Em
are you ready to die
look into my ocean of fire
divulge and cry


we’ve walked on the same grass
bleed no different blood
we’ve breathed one another’s past
we touch the same love


are you ready to die
look out the window and see war
or close your eyes and see peace
feel my sorrow and happiness
feel this blade and cut my feet

break my glass
you broke me
my love is dead
scream sympathy

burn down my home,
the bridges to my childhood
take all my bones
as I am kept standing stood

I look out the window and see an ocean
I let you go

so you are ready to die
Girlamo Barbato Dec 2020
Receiveth that lady out of thy stony desolation
Her encephalon singeth melodies of starvation
Her heart is fill'd with pangs of a hungry void, butchering all sensation
Is hopeth and peace encased in the dark places?
‘r in the lighteth that aroint from her?
The lady knoweth the knowledge but yet to seeketh the problem
Hunt her with thy partisan of sorrow


How savage can life floweth?
All the lady hath left is this broken boat
Desire and tranquility the lady is sure to findeth
Cleansed and swepth away from her swinish mind
Tormented past creeps on her backeth, disappearing whenever the lady behold behind her
The lady can hark tis frighted voice reappearing in the back of her pate, taunting her as the lady soul of symphonies
The moon holds any actuality

Couldst the lady just lie f'r a moment life?
Canst catching but a wink beest h'r getaway?
The lady can’t escapeth her nightmare
But it’s the only escapeth from reality

Life is begging her to grant t one more hap
But the lady end'd up realizing tis real and not fantastical
Upon her is a falsified world that cost to exist
Birds liveth longer
Gudgeon breatheth m're
And ants art stout'r

O Lord giveth that lady thy breatheth of life
Some people crave to believeth the lacking valor instead of the valorous
O Lord maketh her alive
Giveth her a seel man’s eye
The lady wanteth to gape through the window and seeth a perfect welken
Tilt at a diff'rent angle
She sitteth, waiting until the Lord blows out her taper
Partisan puncturing a spirit of sorrow
Hope and peace

— The End —