theres a slight fond remembrance
of a dark suffering temperance
of a world gone frightfully wrong.
black bird falls from bleeding red skies
with worldy curse of propaganda and lies,
singing notes to a somber song.
as all ritz upper class winners
devour sweet deviant sinners
from a platter of prosed placid decay.
and the strong upheld intents
slip into forced weak repents.
and these sheep die alone, nothing to say.
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