The white moon mares had a little tune,
that sung through the east like tulip flutes,
The chronicles of dust were kept in thrust,
The mirage of south was out of flows,
as misty logs in the hairy touts.
The boiling springs, splashed up to the brink,
I was lost, as shiver of love came out as halt,
the betrayal was pain, seeing through the blood of slithering snakes,
was a notorious ravage awakening stripes,
of fury panthers crawling through the grassy lands,
my eyes matched its leap, my tears became its anger,
why me when all I want was your love,
Even the white moon mares felt the loath,
clouded those patches with filter wax, as i went in lax.
You are not my shadow nor my light,
You are the poison that spread through my wings,
An unescapable prison, Of the asylum gates,
I will soon walk out in tremendous spark of sharp razors,
that you came with, like molten fire,
I will burn your tethers, with my aching heart,
the beginning of your wrath will begin with my hatred.
You smile with tender white,
Showing you owning charm,
to claim something that was never yours,
Who was the claim, who was the suppressed?
I was the claim I was the suppressed,
I was your claim, took my life as if it was your own,
my life was treated as a possession,
a mastery introduction,
My aspiring stages became my nightmare pages,
for you to fold and mold,
My deep trust was carved with murderous leather of your stweathers,
have I known I would be farthest of the coast?
Like sea shores, won’t be on troll.