Flawed wings do not fly high up in the sky,
Fallen angels grace the ground of the red earth,
Broken hearts only smell pharmaceuticals that promise healing,
Proud looks know the joy that comes with falling off thrones of grace,
Death is the true savior of bleeding hearts- give me a grave.
Give me a grave and I will make a home out of it,
I stay awake to the devil’s hour to hand him my soul and heart,
Hell is as real as the day that never ends with pain that constantly paints
In the minds of those who lost loved ones and never buried their remains.
Tears are not to be shed, they are a true mockery to the pain that rests deep down.
Let the dry bones live another day to be killed,
The shadowless creatures patrol the night but haunt during the day,
They walk right by your side in disguise- you call them shadows,
As they reap souls to rest in peace the body will never awake from sleep,
The truth in these words will never haunt until you uncover them -wisdom.
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