The Unfairness Of Angels

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 Turning the iron compass
Turning the iron compass from south to north
Bringing my direction back on course
The sharp jagged metal point, cuts deep into my palms
As slowly I turn away from the curse and charms
Feet push into the sodden mud, as I feel the muscles bulge in my thighs
As the harpies taunt me from the skies
Sirens sing their songs of lust
But what is beauty without its trust?
My arms feel like lead weights as I push and heave the compass towards west
Moving further away from all the things that I detest
Disloyalty, betrayal, selfishness, grief, depression, anger, greed and jealousy
And with every angle turned I become more me
For South was bringing me down into the pits of hell and despair
And a world of past memories I no longer wish to share
The cries become more distant and the skies above have birds that sing instead
And the air no longer stinks of the rotting dead
The scars of chaos, which I received in those baron lands
Reflect the pain and blood I have now on my hands
Dark days long nights, a falling decent
As I head North to a place were I can repent
My feet hit solid ground and the compass's arrow seems to move more freely
And the pain and the stress seems to leave my body
The sun comes up from the eastern horizon
Guiding the compass into a northern direction
And finally after months and months of turning the compass I can let go
And head into the sun and its warm refreshing glow.



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