Jon Doe

Dissonance Bleeds - Poem by Jon Doe

Distain and I croak the begat flitting
To red soured belts of its own god
Scorched and stolen have prepared from wind
From plated to the bellows of Starks eye
In welding the sun with presumption
Weighted in the scale of the blacked sight
Been the upper shades that congress the Alps
Dreaded when sedated breaking new wounds

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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 27, 2010

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