Ashes upon my stained blood apron,
Last years smile stitched with the plastic conscience
Anchored to an aging thought,
That bore me a pregnant promise,
Clothed in a gown virgin,
Silence vowed UN-ending bliss to my dehydrated tongue,
Chains broken against my clay strength,
I mined my mind to sharpen the spirit,
With a vessel forged in a tomb,
Whose name was known by the foolish,
My voice penetrates the broken skull,
Chills rise beneath my iris,
Fate glories its self beyond thick skin.
The snare fades with the sunset,
Shadows forever remain shadows.
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