In constant thought, you lie there still
Rigid, luxurious daggers pierce the skin once again
Finally a formation of sense for the creation ambiance
Finally a reminisce of old spirits
Breathing in screams
Breathing out sighs
A love so backwards it’s no doubt to fail
However, the lamb still continues to follow the lion
The lion knows of the lamb
But does not stop to feast
Instead, the lion moves a bit further distance
Not to trap and slaughter
But for simple observance
The lamb lost in blindfolded bliss
Thinking if the lamb were to be butchered when lost
It must be so by the lion
The lion sits from a view
Watching the lamb stumble through winter
Looking for the least bit of trail
The lamb falls
Not able to carry on
All the lamb may do is dwell in lost anticipation
While the lion’s tail swings at a distance
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