However cleverly disguised it burns the palette once more.
Devouring like daggers from leached limp limbs.
Contemptuously cast with fury at the haggard old soul.
Driven straight at the mark meant to burn.
Tear down the last scraped shard of honor.
Kicked into soil and left barren and broken for the vulture's spoils.
(c) & (p) 2013 subconscious mind publication company
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