Scamper of fear,
Obscured in that which you see…
In the agitation of true countenance
Misguiding in fraudulent tears.
Effortless, the rid of ones culpability.
Positioned Dishonor ,
no Better than wretched gimmickry.
Immersed in your last remnants of fertility.
The Soul which is wasted in appeasement
Will eventually wither by its waning want.
The soul which is wasted in appeasement,
Breeding its own cowardly haunt.
In the numberless cycle, to encounter faithful meaning
Positioned Dishonor will endlessly find you.
IN your final terrors,
Obscured in that which you became.
In the agitation of purest countenance
a man once graced by his dishonored remains.
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