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Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Crumbling stone towers
And withering flowers
Stormy skies
Breaking my trust with all their lies

Racing through the Forum roads
With every breathing second breaking their code

Codes of ruling and giving
And living and loving

Black shadows with silvery daggers
Around my crimson lover, who staggers
His golden laurel crown
Clashes and clangs as it falls to the ground

How many throats have they slit?
Or poisons given?
Or pushed strong men past the bounds of heaven?

To dark and shadowy and desolate lands
Where light flys fleeting from open hands

It pains me now as I hear him scream
With an unearthliness that sounds like a dream
A horrible dream where things are
Nothing as they seem

His beautiful starry purple robes
Fall between the Tiber and a thorny rose

Yet somehow even as I see them make their mark
I believe in nothing but the beating of his heart
eighth grade was very much a poetry driven year, apparently

— The End —