The written word – oh how it tumbles and its myriad characters rise
As if Black, Letters Like Flies rise up and Follow
The lines written on the page of sorrow
Where countless fall, die, torment, flee
As if aflame from Reality
And we, we lucky few who survive the trouble, toil and spew
That spills over into every word, chapter, verse and rhyme,
We finally sit down comfortably, sublime.
To enjoy what is left of our shattered universe,
For what we see is but the written verse.
We finally sit down comfortably, sublime.
To enjoy what is left of our shattered universe,
For what we see is but the written verse.
Charges of Geresy 
Leave a comment