They said she'll never go away, they said
That even shielded from my view, she's there,
Somewhere. Forgotten, maybe, but not dead.
Waiting, circling in her visceral lair.
On bittersweet tolls of remembered bells
She'll come. A warmly welcomed, absent friend
Or foe, brought forth by those accursed knells.
Each tarriance affords fresh wounds to mend
And surely opens up the old anew.
No sanguinary scar, nor scarlet trace,
But gasping, gaping holes each leading to
That sacred set where I reserve her place.
They told me that she'd never go away,
Not while imprisoned deep within her prey.
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