The Tower
Morning Star, sacrilege altar
You cut my throat to watch the blood pour.
I could forgive, but find no words
To hieroglyph your ungodly creations.
The price of pain, purple plumed
Fades grey in a featherless Autumn.
'How,' I ask like Achilles, uncertain,
'Could this wound ever have opened?'
I walked with God's young and strong
Hercules, Endenium, and Apollo.
With shrouds you severed my grace
From Heaven to Hades, I have fallen.
Lonely winter's cold slows the descent,
To traverse again the towers many chambers.
Lightning may strike but the tower will stand
You see, form is forsaken beneath the Dog Star Arisen.
You cut my throat to watch the blood pour.
I could forgive, but find no words
To hieroglyph your ungodly creations.
The price of pain, purple plumed
Fades grey in a featherless Autumn.
'How,' I ask like Achilles, uncertain,
'Could this wound ever have opened?'
I walked with God's young and strong
Hercules, Endenium, and Apollo.
With shrouds you severed my grace
From Heaven to Hades, I have fallen.
Lonely winter's cold slows the descent,
To traverse again the towers many chambers.
Lightning may strike but the tower will stand
You see, form is forsaken beneath the Dog Star Arisen.
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