the edge of cold
your soul was gold
melted into a shrine
i could worship at your feet
you let my blood run
send the goat out
it is time for my atonement
you are most high
warming at the edge of cold
tarnished gold
the altar crumbles
my knees are raw
you drained a still
the goat came back
it is late for my conviction
you are a lie.
(October 3rd)
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