Wednesday 7 December 2011

Seeds Of Damnation

You love to taste the fruit of damnation.
It settles in your brass green eyes.
And reeks in your cologne.
And hangs around your neck like the pentagram.

You sowed seeds in the soil that wasn't spoiled.
And reaped the benifit of a doubt.
Then you traveled far and wide together.
With the fruit of damnation in your bag.

You took the prize from innocence.
And planted demons in there instead.
You reap what you sow.
And I was the plant.

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