Robert Fox Poet I do not know?

This Child

Feral is this child. Feral is the birth, of such an offspring. Fear in-cased in this crushed offspring. Ceremony of the fear. That I bear my vocals here. Read between the lines. And discover this boy in man suit such as I. 

  And I could plead. That I would always remain in peace. And I could read. That perfect poem for peace. To lay a closure to to our lips. 

  But there's no... just in this. No justice in this. Feral goes the child. In a man suit of of ill. Feral but charmed. By his own dream. That the world would grant thee. A stoker to put the fire in I to ease. 

  And I could plead. That I would always remain in peace. And I could read. That perfect poem for peace. To lay a closure to to our lips. 

  I'm not listening I'm drinking wine. And I'm not doing fine. Feral mind.   Fear of trust in ruin. Well the experience will repeat. Sad to say in the least. That my heart is on my sleeve. And I want to deny this. 

  And I could plead. That I would always remain in peace. And I could read. That perfect poem for peace. To lay a closure to to our lips. Burn these lips, with a nicotine kiss, Burn these lips, with a nuptial kiss. 

I am the Saint of Hades. And I’ve spent too much time hating

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