Fire Has a Heart
Oh, come
Ye fallowed souls
That burneth in the wake
Of the embers and coals
That spitteth from the mouth
Of the hellions lips that forever quake
Bringing chaos to the pure handed
And suspicion to the inanimate
That deceased under the demanding
And liveth under the crying lake
Poor, poor souls
Have not a voice
To declare against false forces
Or a single drop
Of criticism to point
To the most unethical cause
Of the darkness in afterlife
Beseech not
Thy evermore dreams
To create a breath
For although it may seem
That they may someday bring color
And spear our death
To the forever ending stream
Of down falling glory
Keep thyself in hand
For thy feet can take you
Up the hill
And down the sweeping channel
That shall forever inspire
The ruthless heart
Of everlasting fire.
Copyright © Alyssa Finley | Year Posted 2006
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