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The Destroyer

July 16, 2015

Tear up this straight-jacketed land

Pulverise it to a fine grain of sand

Depart from this comfortable lie

No more will I turn a blind eye.

For fate puts destruction in my hands

So shake off the dust and disband

Away from this sham world, say goodbye

For the new leaf to grow, the old must die.

All the ways have been surveyed and scanned

Round the wide horizon, my view has panned

No creation here can ever truly begin,

No ground is gained without some guilt and sin.

So I must destroy, and I must deny

Sweep the ground low, to later fly high.

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From → Poetry

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