Weightless
Prospects lie on a weightless list,
Birds mocking fire makes a tasteless twist,
To lie, to mock and to play with fire,
Leads sin to a fate buried under a tire,
With a switch of a thought and a lift of a hand,
You could of moved without weightless stand,
Fore your faithless touch and a breath so cold,
Is a breath to late for the dead stone cold.
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