Rumbling dead deeds.

Rumbling dead deeds

Gather me in the ponds of ashes.

Favour of being favoured

To be browsed to be less worth than true

Of A beautiful thing

With none to be true.

With being something

Something false and fluke

With existence

Just false as wine.

Part being hell

Part being heaven

Neither none exists

As prude to pride.

Babbling living shrine

Read the books that weren’t mine

None by heart

None by mind

Whole lot of none self

a way to blow it bright.

A copper in wire

need of silver to shine.

Being me

with death as truth

With a Shouting silence

In end of pain and pride.

Rumbling dead deeds

Gather me in the pond of ashes.

Ruthesoul©®™

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