four stanza fortress of fornication.

Deigned to reign o'er sightless lowlifes
In spite of rights to heighten mine life
Dead and crying, the fled still clawing
At speckles of wreckless, thwarted warring.

Made to make mindless, maudlin martyrs
Out of routed farts, bled til heartless
Stumbling into the stunted, cunted cult
Rendered horrendous, cuddling the culled.

Marching archers, blood on blunted arrows
Grasping at rasping blisses not sorrows
Deaf to defeat, marketing I as We
Slain by sloth, I rile my inner ennui

Righteous writings alighting like lies
In sight of blights and dying allies
Bad bards imprisoning the impassioned
Grown to know the depths that death could ration

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