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Ropeburn Grin

Stings like candle fire

Too close to skin

Death by wire

Ropeburn grin

Alas, my ropeburn grin evades

The empty canvas of my face

To hang by wires pinned up high

A display, replace the sky

In being a lucid puppet

Simultaneously, puppeteer

To fool others I’m the culprit

Makes my ropeburn grin reappear

Culprit I am not,

For in innocence I thrive!

I’ve no idea who should be sought

(lying makes me feel alive)

I pinned myself to the clouds

I pull my own strings, only I

And watch a gathering of crowds

It seems so that my eyes are dry

If a culprit a culprit makes

I am him, I confess

I’m to blame for my mistakes

I constructed this whole mess

I simply let go of the wires

Which bound me to this mausoleum

Accept defeat, assess the burns

Then head to the antique museum

You burned into me unsalvageable desire. My flesh is scorched, arteries and veins ravaged (they hang in the space between what was and could’ve been), presenting me with my own sin – I must look it in

He is passion, etched desire, Unacquainted with a sun or moon Familiar with the pale fire That is often gone too soon A day without my love in arms Is waiting for the sun’s expansion That’s taking pro

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