The falsly salty tears drove down, etching lines deeper still.
The moon-lit granite carved or marred,
Forced against my will.
The god facade of my face crumbled,
Under the hammer blows.
Who knew shrew your lies where steel,
Bitting burning cold as like the winter snows.
My pride died long before you tried to vice my seed away,
Still truth aloof not as I feared,
When the light brought the day.
Thank distance withthis lone fact I conjured in good faith,
Under the war-paint and coffee locks,
You are little more that a wraith.
Only taking faking all you want and all you see,
Your a bitch a floozy and whore,
That is all that you can be.
But now how can I pass judgment harsh pointed and detatched,
When once in my life I was more than your match?
Well riled child the truth is plain and simple you see more than just my word,
I woke and grew and moved up,
I for one vastly matured.
But now as I break the form, of this frilly silly verse, I must say thank you for once and for all; at least you didn't put me in a REAL herse!
Part of a final purge I'm sure... more to come trolls!
~Caleb
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