Monday, 28 August 2017

The Scapegoat 002


continued from here

The keys to the kingdom,
are jangled by unseen hands,
There is a Devil in my ear
As I walk across the land.

A whisper breezes cold, and cool
Its burns ahead, and chills beneath,
As I bend the grass and sun.

All theses sins are not skin deep
Wet feet follow the land.

As a kind murmur begins to understand.
A cracking, mountainous land,

A sirens call
As rocks do hurl



And I fall on blood trickled hands.

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