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9:54 pm
August 30, 2018
Offline
This isn’t a rap song, just a short poem I wrote.
The Fountain
Black, oily, a fountain of grime
Out of mind, out of hate, out of time
The Beast sees us all
Waiting, waiting for our fall
Out of the stinking pit he rises
In so many forms and sizes
As holy men, heroes, and prophets
Yet in the end they are all naught but puppets
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