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We shall sit upon our throne In all its debauched desire. Tapping beats upon the arm Inwrought with gold and iron. The court may sway Curtains draped askew. The courtiers façade Shall fade anew. Those lips that spewed Sweet suckled honey dew Shall slather and harden As truth comes to view. It comes not in words Or sweet music to our ears But rings from steel, Sharpened by our fears.
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Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Court
We shall sit upon our throne In all its debauched desire. Tapping beats upon the arm Inwrought with gold and iron. The court may sway Curtains draped askew. The courtiers façade Shall fade anew. Those lips that spewed Sweet suckled honey dew Shall slather and harden As truth comes to view. It comes not in words Or sweet music to our ears But rings from steel, Sharpened by our fears.
RWRutledge
Written by
37/London
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
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