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Dearest Foe
Forth a weakness last to the verge of legion
Endured the aftermath in a forsaken urge of treason
Unguarded by reason an appetite hounds to sink its teeth in
Exposed a region so vast in its aroma of dishonorable love
Chronicles are hung from their tongues among the arsenals on the sun
The day is done, for a farewell crosses swords
Through virtue is disgust to the love of august doors
Fought through storms of jawless hordes, brotherhood is torn
For one love is born to accord it's monstrous thorns
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I like your choice of words, very interesting piece. The first line gives this poem its spin - 'forth a weakness last to the verge of legion'...
This poem sounds like a chroncle of decadence.
You have a great style, thanks for posting this, was an enjoyable read. |
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| That's pretty tight. |
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| the only thing i can think is what a beautiful spin. so tragically romantic. i read this through many times, i enjoyed the rhythm and imbalance of rhyme. my only wonder is in the middle line, whether there should be a comma after there, or if it should be their? it just caught me off flow for a second. |
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