There’s a sword
that whispers
above
my head.
My heart-
beat gnaws
at gnawing thread.
At gnawing dread.
Dread’s hands are light,
to catch a beam
not seen at night.
The scales I measured
Will soon break
-Atlas dies
I’m left to fate
The house of glass
I built of air
Will shatter in
A silver glare
In Satan’s refuge
There I find
The pieces left
Of shattered minds
Of shattered times
Times left from mine
The pieces left
With hands of rhyme
There’s a sword
that whispers
above
my head.
My heart-
beat gnaws
at gnawing thread.
At gnawing dread.
Dread’s hands are light
to catch a beam
not seen at night.
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