A hundred miles away from the city,
leaving my painted face and plaintive mind,
I sit alone,ahead a church of blessing,
and the coffin confined graveyard behind.
Memories of buried dreams,
killed by my own,merciful device,
now arise for I have come to answer..
reasons for your untimely demise.
Living a life so unrefined,in my castle morbid,
stories told by Him and my clan,
turned out to be a pathway of illusion,
To trust again my feebled body forbids,
further scavenging of the plans,
now an allegory of confusion.
My everyday is a cocophony,
visited by ghosts of unborn hope,
voices asking me to bury the past,
but I am slave to my ignominy,
against a knife edge slope,
Rising,ignoring reason,foeticide of future,iron cast.
I shall always remain,
a slave of my past and future hope,
amongst what I killed,waiting to wail,
or to be blessed,'tween the church and graves,
staring above at the hangman's rope.
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