AnarchiaA Poem by The Raven KingThings get bad before they get worseThe old man points and the city burns and the leaves they fall but the boy don't turn and the seasons pass and the moon gets weak while the sun gets closer and the tides peak the hanged man laughs and the rich man cries cus in the end we're all food for flies The flowers crushed in an iron fist but the fist will rust and new vines will twist from broken fingers and tattered power heavy locks fall from the high up tower into the hands of rabid sheep woken from their fitful sleep sheep with sharpened fangs and claws horrid voices from their jaws blood and death and screams will bathe all the sins of the willful slave the old man dies but the city still burns and death is the boy when he finally turns the boy is death as the city burns the boy burns the city when it is deaths turn © 2008 The Raven KingReviews
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7 Reviews Added on February 11, 2008 AuthorThe Raven KingAZAbout"Call me vain and proud, the greatest sinner ever to walk God's earth, but Satan's boy I could never be. I haven't the humility." -Urbain Grandier, The Devils of Loudon I am older than I look by a.. more..Writing
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