The thunder of the hooves that draw my coach
are muffled by the silent screams within.
I feel a raging heart beneath my broach
in knowledge that the terror shall begin.
Mediocrity announces my approach,
as I cross the murky moat of verbal sin.
The souls that I defend are not alive
but by my sword their spirits shall survive.
The tempest in my heart shall strike the blow,
absconding brackish tears that flow so free.
The sweetness of revenge was born below
within the womb of dark uncertainty.
The ancient soils they trod upon are hallow,
the crypt they trod upon is poetry.
I shan’t allow their desecrating sound
to scar the dead that rest beneath this ground.

But, I appreciate that you have told it like it is! This an amazing metaphoric tale from my perspective, the imagery is fantastic, I can see every scene and feel the emotions as one stands up for what they believe in! 






and much love~ Desire~*~

this is soo adorable 


s.....and a 





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