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Oct 2018
Should dead trees lay uninked in vain
Death shall come to skin my mane
They’ll drain me dry to paint thin corpses
Bloodstained sheets bounds and warps
What truths I kept locked up and caged

I must not waste another page.

Should Passions press their plans to gain
What pleasures tease them; thrashed by chains
Bruised, disconcerted, they’d cut my tongue
Ring it dry to wipe words unsung
While I pillage and drown my house in rampage

I must not burn engulfed in rage.

That once known pure now  lies down ****
And submits its flesh to be tattooed
This holds my heart, unyielding to change
Its fire and fervor forever estranged
With thistles and thorns we nourish our sage

I fear not death, desire, nor age.
esridersi
Written by
esridersi  21/M/USA
(21/M/USA)   
155
     Fawn, Johnny Scarlotti and Yann
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