Trickery, treachery
cleanse the peoples graves
Ashes reminding me of a Sunday morning
withheld in his myriad eyes
Fire escapes, breathing
with the burning oil
Flowers trespassing on your
hopeless restraints.
Behold her, single in the field
tainted and musing
Behold her, single in the field
drowned and abusing
Singing with the melody of the soft little fires
melancholy beauty escaping the eyes of the mire.