The Tragedy of Gracelessness
burned down silence;
scoped down my guilty finger tips
on your warm aching bones that had so
been collapsed by a child
into our faint abyssal nothingness
that i had released.
our child. bread by your nurture;
your perfect conditions - 37°
pure in its own ignorance, melting
down in it's father's unearthly demise
Justification allows purpose
And so I allowed oceans
to be pulled
apart
Something so mighty i told you
Comprehension of power
that allowed a devil's excavation
through our reflective, blue paradise,
to unearth a barren land.
Now still innocent in intention
this big, round, white and black
baby's head sets on;
destined for 14 over appreciated
destructions.
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