Will of a Fool

After long, oppressing Eight almost meets Decade

Through raining pain and sorrows in buckets,

filled with waters of the stone.

with it I watered a fire, this old born flare

hoping to tame its mare.

to grow a tree, that bore good tidings.

Instead the flames grew,with every droplet I threw

It thirsted for that element, that sorrowful brew.

the very same brew, a chained enigma,

Locked in grills of memoir's grave.

 

It’s keeper sought an Eve, a beauty too costly.

His soul was sold,after morning’s glimpse.

Truly a fool.That beauty killed him, and yet he sought it

thus the enigma freed, bore a spark

and left it on grounds

within his heart.

Lusting an evil,writhen and sweltering

his sights bled a river

Its blood I call the brew.

 

A firestorm Rages still,

Incinerating with merciless fury

Consuming my helpless soul.

Its flames are dark, sears every tear

Pain of such agony,

Like a finger it dug into petty flesh

penetrating the bones,

reaching that entity

I call my heart.

 

“One more I meet Nine”, says Eight,

“And yet still that fool seeks the Eve” Decade replied.

 

“ salty hills he’s climbed,

the bitter bread he’d ate

though inches between, never in ever

would that fool

grasp even the breeze of her escaping tease.”

“As his judgements are lies,

An artificial entity, forged for damnation

a curse brought by evil.”

“Next year, when he would pass here,

I’ll grab him clear”.

These a scholar replied to them.

 

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