the stagnant pool,
like a drowned coffin,
still as a deceased heart,
haunting the ghost of the n-ble crusader,
who recalls pellucid ice clutching the aching twigs,
never a drop to disturb stagnation.
oh they say i’ll never win
you’ll always get beat
and like a drop of blood from the devil’s tap
i’m dragging the crusader behind
slips purposely down the black hole back to h-ll
steps purposely down the black hole back to h-ll
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