Even a RAT dines

Whites castles and silver plates
Melts scented candles 
The light from bronze chandeliers

If these walls can shrink,
The heavy air within
Fills my lungs with lays of dust particles

The old wine tastes dull 
Must be these faces around the table 
Filthy and expensive

The rugs that blur their nudity
But not their souls

Void and dark

Their selfish hearts and smirks
Decays meat in their teeth 
From a last kill you fouled hyenas

The blood,
Mild, 
And no decency

Smiley hogs
Their grunts known to the sun 
The wind must have come with aplague

The winter streets
Frozen and dead
Cries a Raven on a broken cart

Even a rat dines, 
On marrow of a dead king
Should the sky turn grey

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Celestial

Despicable faces,
Medals of shame,
Suits of hypocrisy

When the blind rule,
With a counsel of fools
Married to the daughters of desolation

Fear and minority,
High walls surround,
A barricade
The palace of truth

A celestial’s descend,
A wager of wisdom
Lost of understanding,
Of a world without him

That in history he seeks,
The breath of immortality
With the echoes of his name
Just an empty heart
With its abyssal desires

The broken soul

A master’s whistle commands,
On a hunt, to the hounds,

To chase and not fail,
The deer’s blood scented trail

Scraped by a swift arrow,
Flying through the nest of a true sparrow

Tearing apart,
The hatchling, from it’s young spirit

The broken soul of its mother,
And bloodstain, on her quill feather

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