| I have heard your plea in the coaxing of leaves,
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| the empty appeal contorted by intent.
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| There is malignancy, frequencies distinct.
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| Beneath the majesty a potent tragedy
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| Subtle fractures, imperfections.
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| Coursing hemoglobin,
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| heart pummels out a rhythm
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| so misaligned, so obstinate,
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| decisions unwilling to give.
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| On the word of Lucifer:
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| There is urgency, the numbing certainty
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| of their conviction, pains me to hear.
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| The choice is evident, the reigns erode,
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| cannot hold alone!
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| Strings that held limbs run through,
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| I have struggled to hold on to,
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| I was absent and in place now a wound.
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| I am cursed with a sight beyond my eyes,
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| consequences and pit falls lie ahead,
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| generations will grasp this flames
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| warm lick and unenviable task.
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| I was absent and in place now a wound,
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| you are the whole that fills us
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| I eat of this fruit you offer to me!
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| Its taste is so pungent and so bitter sweet,
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| its innate sourness cures this sepsis.
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| A wealth so palatable despite its flaws.
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| Forked tongues so baleful
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| contort and lash with wretchedness.
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| From gaping jaws so unclean,
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| cannot hope to hide their frown!
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| The halls of Elysium ridden with consciousness,
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| the acid of their bile licking back teeth.
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| Impudent menagerie, swarms immutable,
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| the mother, her brood, unavoidable constant.
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| To conquer this opponent my cause has a format,
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| chastise and belittle through heredity.
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| Your facade the godhead of all that is impure —
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| tortured alone in your Stygian hole!
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| For what I claim I bestow, I ordain, and I own!
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| It is within my image that all will writhe!
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| The pitiful mass my constituency
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| and your pit will be feared along with its liege!
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| How can it be oh beauteous lord!
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| The cornucopia for which you bled,
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| the taught cloth with which you cut
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| your tools are blind and blunt!
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| The petty whims of a charlatan,
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| the misogyny of a feeble man,
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| many will suffer the fools
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| who take up your filthy mantle!
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| he mocking sage casts aspersions,
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| so quickly finds his judgement lies
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| with those who catch his sleight of hand,
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| the parlor tricks beyond the curtain
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| Yield!
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| I cannot, i will not, I will not yield!
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| Yield!
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| How easy you throw stones
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| lesser son, dimming light,
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| intentions of a coup de tat!
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| Cloaked in benevolence,
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| the last word sits upon my lips,
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| with wings barbed I swallow!
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| Corridors of black thresh and snake,
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| I am tar, i am viscid.
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| I will riddle all with scorn!
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| I will make them fear!
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| Anatomy now divisive,
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| a form to lay the blame.
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| The offer of bliss now withdrawn,
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| falling from my grace.
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| Her kin shall hate her for this dissent,
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| her body wracked with shame.
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| Shame will be a tool to implement
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| the scouring of her will.
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| Nature now impure,
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| forever scrubbing clean
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| that which cannot be.
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| The bearer now obscene. |