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Lies Of Autumn

Burn The Priest


As the leaves fall
Yellowing
Like aged
Paper

Thoughts turn acrid
And curl like cigarette
Smoke rising from a butt
Ground out on my arm.

Step into this
Decay and
Experience
Dissolution.

Crucified on a plank of cruelty
Crucified on a plank of apathy

Immobile
For the cold
Duration.
Huddled in isolation,
To sleep the winter away.

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