Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

They have fallen into non-existence.Heavenly Spirits.
Into Satan's snare.
They bleed for fun.The lord of hosts only looks on with a smile oh so.
They have fallen and yet the golden paint is visible.
You can still hear them moaning amok without anaesthesia without clarity of situation.
They bend.They no longer kneel.
That primal bond.
Heaven and hell.