In a tongue Repellent in tone
My words drills a spiral doctrine
Of substantial metallic conviction
A pleasingly weaved bush house spontaneously hopeful to burn

When I seal my strolls home I reside in resistance
Recoiled only by heavenly fury rumbling above lost souls
I close my curtains to raise my eyelets to the text only its tenancy embrace without blink
A well baked temple with walls where I could paint my prayers
Where an everlasting day harvest benedictions my deed sow

Where as the night conducts its...