Empire Central

Across the dark ocean
arose a new notion
concerning our timely success

of when one may kill
and what he may feel
and how such a good man must dress

What's not to enamor
of fortune and glamor
when both are so sweetly at hand?

With carpets as red
and bright as blood bled
for epochs according to plan

Know that we will always be
the orphans of our age
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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