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Ylzm Jul 2020
Lust's outcome, unwanted, abandoned at birth.
Mothered by strangers, some naturally motherly,
some perversely wicked; fathers, a terrifying notion.
Fearing constantly: of the next face, the next stranger,
the next meal, the next bath, of dark and dawn.
Thrown about, moved around, from hand to hand;
Recovering from bruises to bruises, from slaps to whips.

But for being chosen from before the beginning,
and a name etched permanently in the Book of Life,
was found, saved, raised and guarded by Love.
The trauma of becoming left no resentful damage
but nurtured an instinctive sensitive soul, most acutely aware
of the deceitfulness, perversity and utter wickedness of man
and a constant wonderment of the miracle of Love.
Isaac Dec 2018
You and I
Are gonna be alive
For the rest of eternity.

Even when we "die"
We will all the more thrive
Now free from all perversity.
Written 24 December 2018
Pangs of loneliness
creep like shadows
and fleeting images
sad and solemn
of truants hiding
stealthy as the slide of tides
observed with half-closed eyes
finding freedom in perversity
and the serenity of silence.
The pale ghost of dawn
A grove of trees
Faded derelicts
Without leaves
A tracery of branches
Bent and twisted
Shades of grey
On a cold, grim day.

Disaffection
Evil minds online
Contempt fro coquetry
Worshippers of perversity
A prelude to profanity
Barely covering
Membranes of morality
On the dark side of the mind.
This was inspired by vicious, personal, verbal attacks online.

— The End —