Scarred and The Scholar

Paul Swaine

Make me Weak too. Drag, Drag through rivers lost. tan tan
Lines of Blacken’d Dirt. Dirt. I eat the morsel; foul few
Dare to Break me. Hurt…. Hurt; En lost Soldier. Man! Man!
Soul for Sword. I’ll Kill! You. The Reverent word woe.

Mark the Books few. Good Night. The Pharoah knew of no
Speakers Muzzle. Trite, Trite, Heard the Owl caw. met met
Lion’s in Halls left. Ruby, Red. My Mind’s own seat, gone froe
Arms and Legs Meek. Kill Me. The Voice utters death, death, death.

The Tempest grail does cease for those who try.
Their lives without the meaning. Truth, Of life.

These shaking lights, will never stop to cull.
“How Hollow You Are” makes me feel so full.

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