I have no faith
in Humanity nor Divinity
A harlot, sacrilege
Yet fate still smiles on me.
Forked tongues and sharpened lies
Light the way to the
Church on Sunday
And I sigh, never
Content nor obliged
To yield or die.
A vagabond for always,
A forest in her eyes,
A prick at her heart and then
A leak til it's dark
It starts
And I wait,
Half our lives
Eaten by sleep
And the other half
By waiting.
It lingers
Yet never returns,
Shadow memory
Of a lost
epiphany.
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