Monday, 10 October 2011

Abstract Crimson Calling

Passion indwelling,
the forges of those anchient sins

The flesh,
Laid victim to its carnal desires

Invoked enchating,
the fragile ethereal beauty conspires

To Sate,
the thirst of the Forge's fire

reclaiming, the soul that had been set free
a tutrtle dove, with feathers bloodstained..

doomed to fly its path, return
to its blissful damnation again....

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