
Rigid rocks atop of stone,
Cold to touch and laced with bone.
Founded by a furnace,
Fired with ferocity
Fuelled with faceless sin,
Built from bricks of mortis,
Death resides within.
Rigid rocks atop of stone,
Cold to touch and laced with bone.
The structure sweeps,
Through silent mists,
High above the stratosphere,
Towering tremendously,
An outline traced,
With torrents of terror,
That paint and taint the atmosphere.
Rigid rocks atop of stone,
Cold to touch and laced with bone.
Created by The Child,
Composed from corpses gone,
Conjured from the dusk,
Shutting off the dawn.
The Wall obstructs, occludes,
Deflects all those whom seek,
Answers for The Child,
A rampart for the meek.
Rigid rocks atop of stone,
Cold to touch and laced with bone.
An ingress may be found,
The Child has made a key,
The Page within The Wall,
Is the way to set him free.
Fortresses are produced,
From pasts filled with sorrow,
Walls are broken down,
With the dreams of today, tomorrow.
Rigid rocks atop of stone,
Cold to touch and laced with bone.




sory but it rymed and im kinda hyper
~Sarah~




--Jenn ♥

Keep on writing! 
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