A Synthetic Soul

Compass of a monster

It`s white outside the spectrum I call my rainbow and my shadow rides it like there`s no tomorrow. When the sun is shining brightly but this winter is never ending. Not surprising bitter envy is the ocean unfit for charter for the compass of the monster has long  been broken. Clinching fists, eyes of a martyr for the compass of the monster has long been broken. The night is starless, rampaging aimless. The unmatched destruction swamps the vessles with heavy wake upon the shores of a heart, that shoves the incessant hollars to a brain. Driving with drunken senses, a primal flame roars like a blaze that turns to ashes all that jagged claws attempt to kindle. Monstrous heart pent against a mirror image. Thus ravaging a soul like a burning village. Pillaged and plundered asuading assididous thunder resignating without requiem in wanton wonder. How for did I become so lost? How have I become what I resent the most? Who birth the monster... plotted the course? Made the night starless broke the compass cut the chains, unleashed thhe monster gave impulse the reigns. Made me strange to myself slave to the rage and all of its grip beating heart, blood in some veins another breath. Emptiness, ambition, one hollow breath recipe not for cooking, but for conjuring a monster with a broken compass How wretched is the grip of a starless monster...

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