The White Dove
In the window of the inner silence of our souls
A White Dove flew throughout the blue sky !
In brightened times of vast amounts of hue,
It's outer door was shattered a new,
Within vile torments with vast screams of burning flesh,
Having long hanging viscous fangs that bite;
Now dripping blood at the side of mouth !
Some our being perplexed by its given sight,
Such as a heightened mockery amidst its given plight,
Seek to never give up on the fight,
With papal vows fixed to never give up on the plow,
Some our even wounded from its bitter silence intact,
A challenge to be free is a question of time ?
Among the living today their as good as dead !
Walking zombie people with lose screws inside their heads,
Yet beneath the ground the Earth does tred..,
With a smoke screen filled with noise inside their heads,
As a beacon of light to a much hurting world in need;
Through shadows proned to desolate screams of inner dispare,
Still none the worse for wear,
The White Dove lingered in the midnight sky;
Passerbys can err' escape,
A helping hand by which to even celebrate !
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