​Stealing stolen whispers,

Of a tremendous burden.

Brittle intensity breathing,

In a reckless shadow. 

The Virtue of truth,

Tested in the grievances.

The virtue of truth,

Skimped away from death. 

Dark clouds,

that surround the mirthless smile.

Drizzling eyes, 

That wander to the end of time.

Marvel at the dirth of blood,

Scream at the dawn of the rhyme. 

Anoint the lord of melancholy,

A generous, unintended folly. 

Slithering into the scorching breath,

Warmth one seeks, in the random depth. 

Skimp on the woes of malice and child,

A deeming cry, so loud yet mild. 

I skip across the swollen sea,

Skewed towards the infantry. 

The bangs of guns, 

The stintch of death,

A sniff of the cooking meth. 

The quite muffles,

Of the preceded preside. 

The raped, the hung, 

The criminals wide;

Amongst those that fail to see,

The ascending Frost, the humans be.