Sing, sing those
Painful prayers
To the molten skies
A great magma, flows
Down my listless heart
Breathless
I consume fire
By my burning heart
Ashen I see, those
Black shoots rising
Take note from
The hearth mine;
Those faith
That was live,
Is wiggling in pain
Mark these untidy war
That strew
Ball-fires
Over my silent grave
Elegy of the finer kind
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