Swift the Wind She Speaks

black horse

Slapped down

Battened down

Forced into the shade

Gagged and bound

passed around

like some tribal slave

the ego rests its head

upon the graves of innocence

did it make you bleed

to see the cut so deep

you cannot force me to bleed

for you

threaten me

to make me desolate

to take your refuge of lies away

where shall they go

when I am tied

and they have no where to go

but fester inside of you

the scapegoat you flung

into the air of your deceit

convincing others of so many wonderful feats

in pomp and slippery candied coated

personas you wear

so cleverly you have them fooled

if not you

it were her

these wretches in what they do

ran from one to find another soon thereafter

sucking at the dew

this evil cord that runs amuck

through men

and women

in unconscious tributes

to the stains they wear

as they lash out

into mockery of their selves

it is repugnant when seen for what it is

their blindness in folly

of wanton affairs

seething in sinew

the nerve to shred another

does not rest

well in their beds

try as they might to break another

when never their task shall be undone

unto themselves broken they befall

for not escaping the claws that jaded

and marred their quest

and in steed upon their backs

the striking of the whips

shall crack

and into their peril they shall run

dumping their deeds

before the feet

swift the wind she speaks

they stumble and fall

onto their knees

when mercy reckons  with the beast



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