Loving hands
Laughs in irony, the bitter beast
Which splinters ingrained in each piece,
Destruction and inaction, in a sphere.
Of the enjoyment so scathing, fuss.
In this web of intrigue, tense waiting,
Just the smile from a clown,
Cross-dressing of insanity that chimera
This shows in every court, and steel knife.
Of pustules that you bring into my soul,
Frames vile, hypocritical the slave quarters.
While I was torture nothing speech,
Not even the near death calms me.
Whips of Satan, my warning signs
In the hands so tender and assassins...
Loures
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