My Gift Is Death
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O, woe is evangelique
Whose eminence brightly shades us
Whose glory cares and saves sense
Becoming rational everyday
Breaths which endure
A dawn of a new day
Whom without the end is nigh
Yet the apocalypse she doth
Stall, long enough to bring
Happiness for all disciples
Save none for the savior of mankind
Lost to the world upon a calling
The same she holds upon her
Shoulders, the gift she gives
With every breath of her being
Her sacrifice to the earth
Turning, spinning in its madness
Only death will find her peace and lasting happiness
Copyright 2014 T.L. Burton