Wicked Heart

And beneath my sooty faceless mask always curving to a half smile, there is an everlasting frown, for I have been sentenced to bear the weight of the world on my shoulders, now, and forever.
Poe and his prose and poetry recoil at the sight of my unpleasing display.
Read and fear.
My poetic tales.
Where end grows near.

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7. Sail

Blood stains and knives glitter,

Smiles fade and flowers wither,

I sail down a lonely river,

The shoreline to my eyes God ceases to deliver.

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