The Armor of Vengeance

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From the ashes
Guilt, blared its dismay
While the winds belowed
Their murderous refrain

The smoke climbed
With a hungry vigor
Scouring for the young
Their grim hearts 
Driven, to the furnace of mayhem

Docile voices
Were claimed
With the greatest haste

As the earth
Madly quivered
In each thoughtless
Crater spawned

Thundering heroes
Knew not 
The trail they cleaved

But courage 
Could not wither
For vengeance
Slays, the wrath of fear

Incapable of Falling

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The wind raids my lungs
As my frame tussles
In the chokehold of sleep

Sprung awake
Into the clutches of night
I ponder 
What could have been

For slumber
Has bid a hasty farewell
And I have not 
The stomach to return

Ghastly dreams
Plague the endless dark
In the foyer of reveries
Where delusion 
Ushers me forth 

So I coast away
In my vessel of insomnia
Unwilling 
Incapable of falling

Procede

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Procede
Is the ascending chorus
Blaring with vigor
In the aft of my mind

The unwavering glow
Amidst the mire of angst
A defiant outpost
Ever-brazen
Against each gust of torment

It is the stoic banner
Proudly aflutter
Charging forth 
Into the fray
Swelling, all valor within

Procede
Jolts me forth
And I jet away
From past lamentations

Driven to flourish
In the morrow’s
Charitable embrace

Placid Nerves

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Through the day’s rolling waves
I remain
Clung to stagnation

Unmoved in the surge
Of daily strangers
The casual chatter
Of aimless passersby

My placid nerves
Are the conquest
Of coddled fear

The terror I cradle
In the folds 
Of my tattered psyche

By my own hands
I am rendered motionless
Retaining the world’s bounty
Selfishly
Devoid of remorse

I am 
But a seedless pasture
Where the lost tumbleweeds
Refuse to christen home

Scavengers of a World Undone

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Through the daily spiral
We accelerate
Until the world blends
To a colorful pulp

Faster and faster
Our insides churn
In our maddening
Tiring descent 

We are to be
The lost scavengers
Of a world undone

When the skies fade
As we scale deeper down
To our primal lows
To the depths of our being

When all light
Is truly lost
Thrive, shall be
Our foremost cause

The Scourge of a Clear Conscience

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I unravel in the eyes of kin
In their sorrowful glares
Swelled with empathy

For I am the juvenile curse
That ensares the conscience
And thieves the honest of slumber

They are called to arms
In my distress
Quick to unsheath
Their timeless remedies

But I do not heed
For I’ve strayed too far
For I’m fully engulfed
By the lofty horrors I’ve conjured