We are Sand

One head many bones

Corrupted flesh, hung with authority

Lives fettered by hands of woe

Coarse grains we flow

Pouring like hot sand

into the wound

Charlatans cure all. Austerity 

A soothing balm of desolation 

Their chosen words, like

wind on a barren land

Now the truth is solemn

The picking clean of polished bones

◄ The last Book

Possessed ►

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