A walk through this unfathomed dungeon,
Has unleashed this vixen.
For sadism can strike the pristine,
This speaks of purity stained...
A bloody sly prudish bugger,
Too dishonourable to be crucified.
For a good afterlife has tremendous grace,
Vengeance is too often sought by blood...
When your very creed is ashamed,
So very vain.
Natures wrath does backfire,
The honour is gone to the dogs,
They feast on it everyday.
So, who's to hex a sinner?
Life fails to understand relativity,
Brings about disorientation to the innocent,
In this very disgraced phase of transition...
The lies are damned,
The swing of life is not.
A very beautiful species,
Their harness is defied by lies...
The vixen dreams of the siren,
The knight knows his target,
The sinners brace themselves for their mid life crises and lonely death,
The King of fate mocks them all...
The exhibitionists are coerce,
The casket contains treasure that is never good to be flaunted.
Disharmony has its way of failing to see the great good,
A very strange kind of nugatory angst is at war with sunshine...
The dark ages were indeed oppressed,
Bred in agony.
Thus the impishness of a fool wounded a beautiful phase,
But the new era nourishes the madness...
A very undignified whorish soul,
Can dissociate the innocence of a vulnerable offspring,
Drifts from each tavern ,
By bad destiny brings about procreation,
This schmuck wanders by the proximity of your very shadow...
The air is bewildered,
Breathed by virtues and vices,
But you can never quite separate something so interdependent,
After all is said,
Life shall conclude that a curse is a cycle...
Words can never embody wrath,
Unless a certain evolution is attained,
That being said, my blood boils to a crimson like red,
Dishonour has left a real man shamed...
The closet of mystery was always a tale untold,
Stability is only loyal to the brave,
Helplessness is unfortunately a companion to every mortal,
Dignity is false until claimed...
( Painting- Saturn by Goya).
Has unleashed this vixen.
For sadism can strike the pristine,
This speaks of purity stained...
A bloody sly prudish bugger,
Too dishonourable to be crucified.
For a good afterlife has tremendous grace,
Vengeance is too often sought by blood...
When your very creed is ashamed,
So very vain.
Natures wrath does backfire,
The honour is gone to the dogs,
They feast on it everyday.
So, who's to hex a sinner?
Life fails to understand relativity,
Brings about disorientation to the innocent,
In this very disgraced phase of transition...
The lies are damned,
The swing of life is not.
A very beautiful species,
Their harness is defied by lies...
The vixen dreams of the siren,
The knight knows his target,
The sinners brace themselves for their mid life crises and lonely death,
The King of fate mocks them all...
The exhibitionists are coerce,
The casket contains treasure that is never good to be flaunted.
Disharmony has its way of failing to see the great good,
A very strange kind of nugatory angst is at war with sunshine...
The dark ages were indeed oppressed,
Bred in agony.
Thus the impishness of a fool wounded a beautiful phase,
But the new era nourishes the madness...
A very undignified whorish soul,
Can dissociate the innocence of a vulnerable offspring,
Drifts from each tavern ,
By bad destiny brings about procreation,
This schmuck wanders by the proximity of your very shadow...
The air is bewildered,
Breathed by virtues and vices,
But you can never quite separate something so interdependent,
After all is said,
Life shall conclude that a curse is a cycle...
Words can never embody wrath,
Unless a certain evolution is attained,
That being said, my blood boils to a crimson like red,
Dishonour has left a real man shamed...
The closet of mystery was always a tale untold,
Stability is only loyal to the brave,
Helplessness is unfortunately a companion to every mortal,
Dignity is false until claimed...
( Painting- Saturn by Goya).
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