Forged in the moons
Of I child gaze
Washed in memories
Naked
With eyes
Bearing fangs
Touch the scars
Buried in the years
Of growing smiles
Like the bad dream
Who chuckles
Right before
Thy skull is crashed
Beneath tender hands
See the pain
Laughing in rhythm
Of times crippled
Matched with half-baked joy
The promise of tombs
To be treadled upon
While the children
Watch on
With hope that death
Will bring forth
Sweet life Wrapped
In dreams empty
Of castles
Bred by plagued tongues
Watch them
See what they but do next
See the man beneath the title
Listen to their sweet coated talk
Look and see the motive
Fashioned to appear virtuous
See that in end
A puppet is all you will be
A slave sighing
With an identity
False in nature
Watch carefully
For the time next
You will be treading
Upon dead children
The illusion of freedom
Will be the myth
Shared with a conscience dead
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