Psilanthropy Poem by Crimson Love
Psilanthropy
A man you deem son of god,
A mortal that believed he was of immortal blood,
A mere human on the brink of insanity,
or perhaps past?
He preeched truths, of beautiful lies,
Blunt are the accusations told, yet True I believe,
The son of no god was he,
But perhaps in his own right, he could be deemed godly.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: insanity,lies,son
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8/5/2026 3:21:09 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
