Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Pitter Patter

Playful upon pits of design,
Turning my darkness into death,
I patch together pieces of cloth
To better hide my emotions.

The powers, gone mad,
Spraying blood upon the steps
As payment to the lords.

Hidden deep in the property
Of my thoughts, I struggle
Against pests desiring to
Claw apart my protests.

I'm stunned and without purpose,
I spill mysins to the only
Priest still dead enough to listen.

With a price pinned upon my head,
I plot destruction and see my
Path littered with wayward diseases.
These cretins, their plight, I drown them all.

3-11-10
 


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Pitter Patter

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