Thrusting vertical compressions against a stone slab made of forgotten sources,
veracious sicknesses wanted for your skeptical monsoon,
a blistering storm of nothingness taken from within your bitterness,
while I gave you something worthy to say,
I took away everything else you ever needed,
I submerged everything you ever were in a foothill of mud,
gifted in the bloody limestone of acceptance,
sinner and forgiver,
rejoice for it will be will be a new dawn,
before the end,
before the judgment of what you is made by the finest steel my hands can wrap themselves around…
