Buttoned up in a burning Flame

Buttoned up in a burning Flame
A touch to light, a torch to burn
Was Seduction made for Eve alone
All men sure would have died Saints
Our Curse has never been so cruelly felt
As bronzed statues we stare,
Though our cause appears innocent, yet
Wrapped and sweetly coated they’re with death.
We are charmed by the touchstones of misfortune
In the guise of a civilising god
Laying siege on us by the Sceptre of Swords
Though wild men we were, ought we not stay genuine
To our hearts and hearths?
Though our hereditary be strong and impregnable,
Tarnished Soon would it be; for their godless Score, and
Ornaments will wash us all down in blood.
Busy has been our Foes, now they are in charge
Spasmodic bites of pain covers our brows
Making us Inheritors of a Screaming Pain.
Our eyes bleeding now in tears
Yet no tear from it do Fall,
Buttoned up in this last Flame,
Our only wish is just to …


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