deepundergroundpoetry.com

Filth

We brush cheeks with filth, yet wrap ourselves in innocence
Like school children who pull at curls, we run tittering from punishment
Never do we thrash with such vigor, 'til it's our wrists bound to Satans' bed.

Dare I propose a toast;
I say we writhe no longer in idle morality...
For if the halo is ill fit,
Do not tug!
One will only be left with dripping palms and sprained faith.
Written by SychophanticSlag
Published | Edited 28th Dec 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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