Tuesday, February 21, 2012

You become Your Things

What becomes of rust
Save Dust,
And many broken things
Bare Springs
Are all the things you held
Once they gelled
But time forsakes them now
Lost their wow
So what did they matter see
Now let them be
Look into portrait glass
Once a face of class
Traded for your wretched greed
The Devil’s reed
Rides upon the back of liars’
Unseen fires
Engulfs even the mighty King
Ashes fling
Quiet the lost childe now
Frail but how
He traded his future among lies
No one cries

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