Mære (On a Stillbirth's Tomb)
The Ruins of Beverast
Draws the dusk through the eyes of an insect
Salivates for the whore echidna
Thirsty glance up the sunlit towers
Leaves it doomed and broken in the end
She is no deity, no saviouress
Not in her monumental splendour
Not in her ashen malice
And as the maere on a stillbirth's tomb
Once again, her virgin dress is draped with shreds of flesh
Mildewed prison, candlelit barely
The whore echidna, suckling
A salacious glare in its eyes
Sore limbs, sore teats, savage tongue
She is no deity, no saviouress
Not in her monumental splendour
Not in her ashen malice
And as the maere on a stillbirth's tomb
Once again, her virgin dress is draped with shreds of flesh
Regurgitate with greed
She won't let it starve
Six legs lead it astray
In circles
Astray
In circles
Astray
Astray
Astray
Astray
Has it now passed the years that could have left it blind?
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