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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Experience · #2199735
Half empty? Half full? Half holy? It inevitably runneth over.
Where pathways forked in twain,
I trod the third, unbeaten trail.
Crossed a dozen
Tidal bridges;
All afloat in the rain.

Bent branches running rife,
They bifurcate the tree of life,
'Til they wither
And kiss the ground
Where the mountain's roots lie.

Broken barrel binders.
Oaken willow welders.
Fret I shan’t! Feel I can’t!
"Never free,"
Will I always chant?
Raging remnants revel in riling realities.

Somniferous silence.
Chaos characterized.
Light bringer! Night singer!
Rhymes in blood
On fields of cinder.
Raging remnants revel in riling realities.

Slay the decadent
And burn all malice,
That I may find
Some kind of peace.

I have held up high
An empty chalice
And learned to play
These roles with ease.

When my time on Earth
Counted six short years,
My innocence
Was fucked, for reals.

Still, my scars and fears
Are hot on my heels,
Carried by a
Lifetime-aged breeze.

For once, feel my praise
Hear my prayers, please;
Let twenty-eight
Mark my release.

"Zeus? Lucifer? Amun-Ra?"
Nope, seems there is nobody here...

"La ilaha ill-Allah?"
My Arabic's not even near...

My name means 'Yahweh is God,'
But they all are quite dead, I fear...
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199735