the truth, so brutal
It feels like a trial
by fire, and mutual
an arson with no fuel
of the palace of illusion
whose majesty retires
dripping tears of justice
while it extinguishes
in the dust, a little me
growing, fraying weed
coiling sapphire ring
never ending seed
the rise of who I must be
with no master, no crown
the soul that I carry around
the body I can see, proud
stepping to the funeral
of my presumable
masterpiece character
a secret event, only doable
in secret, a chewing
first communion, of
my body and soul reunion
I am again re-born
is a fate pick l cannot fathom
I am the one, gone
again, the same person
in a fire circle of unions
to walk bare, a nude
a masterpiece raped
stolen and found back
in the same place, in flesh
it hurts, it poison the veins
it is a push through a stone
it is a flight I had in past won
still plough down my mellow
in the bone, I look up
stubborn, and finally light
I saw, my eyes not sore
anymore, the output of turmoil
of the spring in the soil
of the wind in the glass
of the sapient craft
out of the dirtiest mud
shine that I mourn
and long in the meanwhile
the innermost drive
to find all we know on earth
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