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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required book of face I see your quick on that trigger. your words are offers on man's flawed self righteous altar Of the vanity, and sullied grace of ou The feeble attempt to sacrifice my ego arpe too, in vain. I let my ego die inside me long before you mustered up words to say. Before you had even half of that smooth brain. Ah but here you are, on the book of face. I suggest you reload your magazine, and make well sure, those thin skinned fat fingers, do not tremble and shake. Because you think those are hollow tips, But actually, You're shooting blanks. Thinking snarky sarcasm and signaling virtues in falsity puts a chink in god's breastplate? And the devil's laughter, echoes in the background at you, the babbling coward. readying your aim, behind the safety of a glowing screen. readying more bullets for fhate. knowing you will stumble in your ignorance, he sets a clever trap, to snare you. and I your brother, was just the bait. I do not claim perfection, I know my sins and mistakes. what gave you the sight of god himself, to see my soul and pass judgement, in his sovereign place? I know my transgressions, I am just flesh and blood. I know my place. But you put yourself upon that contrived pompous pedestall of pretention. You do NOT know your place. The pile of feces that corodes your tongue, You claim that smells like lavender, and the cracking thin skin on your lips is actually, really as soft as lace. I know I am no better than those around me. And my excrement? it smells like waste. Like the your breath reeks of, As you type away, Each day. on that book of face.
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