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Mar 2015
Beckoned from the highest of spires,
Lavished in pristine ****** halls
Defiled with exotic vestige from crusades ago
Of the noblest Kings virtuous to themselves,
Came the greed of a fair charlatan
Who longed for the earth under you.
Who craved the hollow of your bones.
Who thirsted splashes of your blood.
And pike your flesh on the flèche.
Cellar D'or
Written by
Cellar D'or
714
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