Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Of His Coming Madness

All ye hail the threadbare king.
Wasted, broken, shameful thing
That sought to play too great a part
And lost all regal inkling dear.
Whilst eaten with the great sphere.
Falling e're to the maw
Which reveals in us our deepest fear.

Despite the chanting song sublime,
Never did he chance to climb;
To risk himself above all else.
Deeper, dark, eternal chill
Feeds his bones a twisted will.
Lock away and crush the key,
Bring forth the age:

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved. 

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