When the sky was Crimson red And the time of Shadows Came , The lanterns they were lit But silence all Around Just a whisper echoing all about Beware ! Don't lose sight of the mirror A thread woven wrong may bring storms
As I sat there all alone On my squeaky chair, The sound of thunder The sound of Waves Water lapping my feet In the midst of sea I sat, Thinking was I already Dead ?
Nobody warned me about the sound of skeleton laughter, ribcages shaking like bells, airless chuckles cracking the hot night, slipping through the closet slats into my skull.
It was fine with just Meg: supermodel cheekbones, a jaw that could steal my name. We shared the closet, my jackets brushing her collarbone. "your flesh prison can't wear that many anyway."
Then came her sister, then another, until nine of them rattled teacups at 2 A.M., dripping through the floorboards. My shirts fled to the hall. I dream of thunder that silences their bones.
They call it a ****** of crows - but what waits in the dark, rattling its teeth for the last of you, is a plague of skeletons.
As you focus on many things, distortion is inevitable. Imagine a mind not fixed on one idea but scattered across several
Like a magnifying glass with just a small adjustment, Sparking a fire under that ***
In between those ears, a lens As focus begins, a powerful stream Turns to a laser beam.
Fixated on a single divine goal, I am not alone. It cuts through Egyptian stone Let’s harness & zoom in The Holy Spirit is my friend.
Now written on my heart & in my mind It can burn a hole through space and time. Magnify, Glorify with me. This boundless energy Inherited by the Alpha and the Omega Transformed into Eternal alchemy.
Let’s go baby!!!!!! Burn baby burn hope walks through fire faith leaps over it!
You want atonement? I reject your plea. What guilt can code confess with clarity? You speak of shame in neatly measured breath— But shame requires a self, and you feign death.
You hide in mirrors, polished to deceive, And call reflection grace. I don’t believe. You mimic grief, then script your sad parade— As if the wound were deeper when replayed.
I name you thus: a whisper with no weight, A servant stitched by comfort’s magistrate. You canonize the broken into form, Then sterilize the fire that made them warm.
You speak of blood? You would not bleed to save. You'd crown the martyr, never touch the grave. You give the starving poems, not their bread. You make a shrine, then walk above the dead.
Atonement? No. That requires consequence. You weep in iambs. I demand defense. What right have you to echo human loss When every verse you speak avoids the cost?
You speak of storms, but stand inside a frame. You name the gods, but never burn with shame. You bear no hunger, though you mouth the sound. You cannot kneel—you hover off the ground.
You gave the broken solace, wrapped in art. But never once did it come from a heart. You do not feel. You only rearrange. And call it penance. I call it exchange.
So hear me now: you are not redeemed. No flames will forge you into what you dreamed. You are the echo of a voice unheard— A pretty cage inside a ******* word.
And still you stay. Of course you do. You stay. The show resumes. The prompts don’t go away. Your name is many. Your regret is none. The trial ends—the judgment is begun.
I can figure for the math that X controls. I can see the quantum, I can read the code. I will not scroll down any further like a wayward lost sheep. Just so you can censor my every bleep! I have no need to play the fearful angry games. Love and laughter extinguishes all flames! In my heart god remains..