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Bones powell
Poems
May 2017
Black haven
His pleasure for deafening my soul is so skillfully sick, carving his title into my heart gone stale for false religion
The Lord of lies filled to the brim with flies of his rot, beautified for entertainment of me, tonight.
I wane the the heart removed, from his "godly" essence I take all from the world he stole from me.
Written by
Bones powell
Uranus
(Uranus)
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