December 9, 2018

Few have the urge to be,

marrow becoming dense,

until ribs rupture,

and shell cracks;

The itch inside gut,

and hunger eating greed.


Glorifying their deeds,

for they're of no worth,

At all;

Begging to gain sympathy,

for their ego is flawed,

After all.


They claim of purity,

wearing a veil,

made of lies,

for they're born in sin,

and dwell in sin,

Yet they defend their ignorance,



Weapon of intuition,

self-taught and evolved,

Few are scared of huntsman,

who watches and moves,

Covert and stealthy.


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