Then, was enslaved in your sheath
in a bosom of appearing angelic roars;
hosting daringly with perfectly
groomed verses, of
your patterns of inflictions
Unfold me; mold me!
I am available for your
Untame me, hold me,
I am yearning wholly
to see your demogorgons
Suspended in waves I shook my petals
brightly fair to raid your waging pedals
Console my hunger
to behold in your slumber
Console my paper
to behold grace in flaming banter
Make your mutters, presents as a
virtuous angel fettered completely to a nix
on patterns of
leaving feathers on an angelic pain.
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