The verse and
the sense are gifted by kama
Yet I soon
expect to be hit by the karma
The cosmic
creation, written in the east
is a mere
abstraction for vultures to feast.
I feel one of
them, caged in my mind.
Clawing and
chirping way far too loud
I'm trying to
stop it, however I fail
Words are
still bleeding, night turns to day.
Fear not now
the damned artist's reed
She`ll lie
and steal, whatever she needs
To proper
respect the deeds, of an illusory prince
She's the
story made flesh from a bundle of sins.
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