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Sep 2015 · 465
Monk's Hood
The Panthian Sep 2015
Who are you that I should follow? Windowless and blue, what a soul of sorrow. Broken minds and fearful angels built this Frankenstein. Sunday's buckled kneel will never heal. So you think that you can be my beam on high? I will never bow so far as to see your sky. Rip apart the only wound I have ever known. Taste the poison from the monk's hooded bloom. One more step, fall to heaven with this on your breath. And be the nobody that you have already confessed.
Sep 2015 · 282
Progress
The Panthian Sep 2015
Nothing has done more to harm the planet or its inhabitants than the word progress.
The very nature of its being is to destroy, to make all things useless for  no more reason than to creating a new and useless thing.
We often think ourselves wise and nobel for the creation of the new and exciting, but the end result always takes more than is given.
Sep 2015 · 316
Stolen Life
The Panthian Sep 2015
There is no getting back to good.
No better way through the wood.
I have written for a decade or more
Everything you could image,
From heartbreak to Grammy
And even a little more.
Dozens have been taken and I
Must admit, they are my favorites
Other music just doesn't stand up
To the words I have bore.

— The End —