My
heart is a weapon
Her
love is a gun
My
knife is the night
Her
king is the sun
She
wears the river as a cloak of feathers
She
sings hymns of dawn's retort
Moonlit
tempest of nigh all weathers
Dead
princes throng the court
Fools
and ministers
Both
glut of equal blame
Bits
of broken sky upon their plates
Clasping
never to a name
Tyrants
and their fuck-toys
Always
sound the same
Beggars
carry crowns of light
While
dead princes carry shame
This
was yesterday and today
Perhaps
again tomorrow
Another
little annihilation
Or
mother dressed as sorrow?
Cloak
of feathers
Dawn's
retort
Nigh
all weathers
Throng
the court
Heart
as a weapon
Love
as a gun
At
night
The
sun
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