Before the sword
I am cast outfallingyou’ll find me burningbefore you find me crawling vile deceiverscreamingReality rawEden was man lost dreaming Just creationnaturebuilt in instincts
Rambling
Brittle Ones
Plastic patriots melting at the first sign of firescreaming battle cries when held from what they desireinconvenience the hardship of the suburban
Battle Scars
I walk with an emotional limpBattle-scarred soul with shrapnel dug deepHealing isn’t always clean I have to decide which limbs I want
Stones
The chains embedded, screwed through flesh into boneBolted to limbs, deep in the marrow, each riveted to its own stone The friction
Fertile
How fertile is your fieldmeans little to the bullyou keep feeding him, taking shithe makes sure the field is full the cows