Holymarsh

Hidden truth

Holymarsh
Rotting surface, in Isolation. Fettered your face. Turns
inside out. Truth is a fear. Blinded with conceit. This
side of heaven this close to Hell.

Rusty your eyes, rusty notion and shield. Fixation by
confined your inside Bleeding fear, crucified rage. So
cruel intrinsic evasion. A face of red, but a heart of
stone cold black. Dispersed trust, wicked eyes get a curse

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