You dye your reflections in indigo-
singing dirges of blue-devil,
conjuring orbs to house your taboos,
forgetting no circle is perfect;
culling goodness can be onerous,
when blackness takes all principle
by the throes of unyielding grip;
and like a sinkhole, it disappears.
Then, you ask yourself why so,
the looking glass steals your eye;
still you pay the Seer your silver coin,
betraying yourself once again;
water coursing your jaded brain,
merging creeks and brooks to oceans;
such dread, so sad, the blade be your love,
cold necromance... your elixir.
[FjR]
MMXIX
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