The Loom



Yet you are my dew in the petal of eternity

You’ve got few strings of mine
With their painted threads
You’ve set up the net
In your loom
For the tapestry of your last gammon

You are happy in this delusion
You enjoy your pace of life
While you believe
Others are blind

I’m not that bad to salute your illusion
Even in the moments when you think
You are the Queen of the city
That cocked the last blood supper
for the Peninsula of hatred.

Wake up three times I evoke
Don’t let the abyss swallows
All your dreams and hopes
So the Divine may abandon you.


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