December 4, 2016 0

A ribcage of twisted steel

Flushed eyes, scarred palms

It murmurs; I’ll leave you to heal

It lies; I shall do you no harm

Bricks rise with the swarthy rain

Bells toll as the sun skims and falls

Breathe in time, seven eight nine

Buildings spin as I stay deathly small

Skip, trip through the soulless legs and faces

Stare into the ground, I pretend to be blind

Stinging weakness, flee as it chases!

Siren’s dead child that it begs me to find

Murmurs are killed, a festival of silence

My heart subsists from the tomb where it hides

Madness sojourns, my eyes lock up the violence

I know not to venture outside


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