Staining the glass ivory seems highly improbable.
The soul had been consumed by a creature named Devastation.
I have come to my senses and searched past the horrendous news.
There’s nothing else I want more than to dig into my own grave.
Perplexed by the alluring fear of despondency -
Raveled by your licentious trials and tribulations.
Count on tracing twenty steps back while you gather your bullets.
Death is but a staircase away from fanning out this lantern.
My deepest afflictions are confessed above God’s Highest Law.
Open-air silence reveals a concerning pathway to these -
“Incriminating questions suitable men can’t engage in.”...