At_Last

Dusty diaries Dross of pain Tossed at murderous hosts In vein? In vanity? Which was my spade? My ink? My blade? My link? Equal windharps of my storm. Equal shadows of my form.

I jump this wall To thrust a pen Into an eye, Quite fully in. See this! Thrusting deep To pencil's length Ripping hearts With all my strength. From eyes and ears

To paper, set Scrolls of tiers Of parapeted men. But what would that beget? Belial swells of mindless curses Angels float on heaven's verses. Can I sour daemon's whey And gag them at their play?

I don't know.

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