poem.txt



sound bends. with it, i bend too.

nothing rests,
everything moves,
everything vibrates.

Those with eyes,
They will See.

A red streak, a red stain on the world canvas, a blot that will surely become something great.
Those who cross paths with the Red Spot shall know, it shall not be ignored.

From Admiration to Reverence, 
from Hatred to Fear, 
from Fear to Reverence again, 
all shall behold the Light of the Red Sun.

my eyes, they burn and vibrate in my skull,

my pulse then slows, my blood pumps weakly
my head reduced to a bowling ball, affixed to the rubber of my muscles
only when my eyes close do the Gates open,


O, I See! the opened courtyard... oh how the 
  



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