Vindictive Manner

You have no place to hide...
you have no place to run...
you have no place to call...
your own. When the static meets silence
and can't think of...what is reality from baseless
claims. You are the worst to only yourself.

If you think that way.
You have no peace...
You have no love...
empty in what you entrude.
Into your quaint abuse.
Solemn and sorries empty
and dead to me.
You are the worst only to yourself.

They are made up from your vindictive
manner.

Vindictive, addicted.
To your clans foil.
Must be your last undone.

Irony caged, leashed
your banes. Unleashed in
flicker of aimless questions.

To afflict like it was
not a choice at all.
You deserve to woe.

The aeon is blind,
and has no voice to speak.
We take the duty, feelings from...
so hollow. Irony I can only take your
case. In the end, it feels like you rehearse.

Without a thought,
you unleashed a lesser peace.
Baseless witness loses his muse to the sounds.
To the sounds of abuse.

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