Control. Control. Control.
Losing control in order to find order.
Destroying everything I am to restore who I was.
Demolish everything you’ve built to construct a stable foundation.
Lose control.
The control you flaunt is nothing more than AI. Clandestine implosions inside while you hand out reassurance.
Let go of your ritual runes and place your relics at the feet of the lord,
now burn the alter.
Inhale the smoke from the crucifix
and exhale tall tales and delusions of grandeur while being judged by people who are afraid of ghost.
And don’t be afraid of those ghost.
The haunts of ignorance, the haunting howls of heresy or the fear of becoming a martyr.
About the Creator
W. J. Bradford III
my name is William Bradford III
I write poetry and create content surround each subject.
Ig:thesadder_chapter
Fb:thesadderchapter
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