From the Broken window
in my home
I am But a Vassal all
alone
corrupted By the contempt
and very well
Dragged By this Angel
into hell
Where it can be seen
that all seems right
high Above
and Awash in Eerie light
through the poisoned Pin Drops
of my sight
I strain to watch through
Stained glass apertures
the to's and fro's
of charming Blessed souls
wearing always
robes so clean and shining
& to the masses turning up their
noses
while those who Dwell Below them
subsist in curses
tightening up the Drawstrings on
their Purses
living Broken Dreams & Awful Dingy
clawing lives
& watching as their hopes
turn into knives
that aim into their brain
and shred apart
their wills to strive
and chambers of their heart
turning Damination into art
(wondering if they'll ever
have
a
start)