RMC

It is the fabric of society
to exceed expectations for
the implications made
under the guise of lies.

Our illusions I will them,
for our sweet precious peril,
into the fathoms of an expanse
full hope for a sympathetic devil.

Pray and prey with me
into cadeavors made of iron,
turned dust in the end
full of love into the fire.

Feel freedom and render me
a loathsome load to carry
that is volatile in hostile style
who fights the breaking levy.

Amazed by little amazement.
I suffer no storm rising sun
in the begging hunger run
I do to carry what I’ve shunned.

Pass away from the stray
I am a person who is this stable
made person who is this fable,
I’ll love for as long as as I’m able.