ViceA Poem by Justin Avan
Waver strain requiring
Rampant to admiring the common place of speaking twice And from this view he'd grab a knife Questions, "Why this torrid pain?" to the Devil's only enemy Combated by his irony So sleepless I lie in bed Blasphemy stricken in my head As another cry or plea I state Mixes harmony with internal hate So tell me why this is profanity if all you've ever handed me was a stained glass reflection of hallow shells claimed to feel divinity
© 2014 Justin Avan |
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Added on November 5, 2014 Last Updated on November 5, 2014 Author
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