The silence mulled a life in it’s return,
Of d small’s world and of having seen it burn.
Charred when the reality douses,
Robbed-the trickster grin, a hollowed gleam.
Serious a shade, lucky for my world’s abate,
In maims of gust, another life’s tucked..
What goes in the head, whence he frisks & you he raids?
In the pain of you, the pleasure he gets?
Realms of horror, making hours of tale..
The right’s wronged but the God’s are long dead!
The beloved of one’s, bolstered away..
The love of another, ploughed to death.
One had it all and the delusions in his head!
For one the power of taking it all.
Instead I sleep, rest my toe if they ever had to bail..
Luck's for billions, in countless grunts of the dead.
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