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ramoska
Poems
Apr 2019
the necropolis of vatican
corpses of saints tickle my eyes
I see plague
I see demise
what is this place?
it is not divine.
it's cursed
I feel it in my spine
my bones start to twist
I am no longer His.
this empire will fall,
it will fumble and it will crawl,
and then
only the dead will stand tall, above all.
Written by
ramoska
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