La mort éternelle de mon coeur
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Written April 7, 2014 @ 3:29 PM
The proud beat within thy lion heart of the temple
Never felt so barren, a dearth of pleasure and of
Unbridled despair, the despondency to be known
By the lonely hearts of the winter's turbulent ocean
And her tempest, ever raging, to a climax to never
Have existed, the denouement only borne in accord
With my mere conception, a tide to kill the coming
Day's sunshine, for though Solis has baked those
Lucky backs upon the rites of Spring, my awakening
Will never bear for me any fruit not consistent with
That of the rheumatic fingers grasping the airs of a
Lifeless sky which reminds all of the opportunities
To experience the Forbidden Fruit never afforded of
Myself, but only the ascetic life of a stoic monk, of
The eternal sentencing to my monastic death many
Scores past, present, and into a posterity where the
Demise of my life, always fated for all my time, never
Failed to take launch as this was to be the fate ever
To be for me, for I never was granted a conception
In concert with fairest harmony, but requiem's song.
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