Untitled #45

These nefarious war drums beat in unison with her so called unattainable heart, While they all stand in awe at the passion of It’s somber and ancient art.

Like a Zoo exhibit.

Piece by peace, she unfolds, only to behold more obscurity,
-But, weary worn hands are no match for this spirits purity

When will the stroke of antique quill Remark the truth shone through them, And note on every inch of flesh Seen from eternity’s watchful stem

Hells bells and Heavens song How can such a love be wrong?

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