He Who Would Be King

Empty heads wicked hearts oh vile frail! fallow men
vipers we plucked, maggot infused flesh festering rut.
Look into the shallow inners of this beast! no release,
fanatic cries! zealots, not herd, agony! should be stirred.
We speak his evil will, your succubus will conceal her ills
in a roll of the dice wraith! is in your temptress poltergeist.
A slave who would crown himself king, such foolish things
fear gathering providence, phantom idol lords entitlements.
Proof! underground at your feet, your next stop will be deep
now your forsaken for in God you trust! we grind until dust

Published by Sandymancan

I'm a father, friend, and a family man, I believe in right and wrong, I understand the value of standing on your own. I have an iron will with a poet's heart, a belief in God is where it starts.

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