Mark of The Beast

Quiet in a time of testing.

The stain of self-denial.

The bobbing head of indifference

To the skipping beat of the population’s hairy fist upon a tavern’s table.

Drunken thoughts repeating endlessly.

The confines of a follower’s mind.

The constitution of a child.

Questioning all but that which demands inspection.

Rebelling against all but those powers which seek to oppress you.

Picking your fights and losing them each time.

The back of your right hand tingling as you read my every line.

Your forehead tingling with a subtle pressure.

Stubborn as you are, you can’t deny.

Write a verse and lock it away within your heart.

Cast a line into the past before you knew

How to follow for the sake of following.

If you can remember what you were like.

Before you let go…

Before your taste became the dead thing that it is.

Before you became your own worst enemy.

Your natural essence will survive.

Despite yourself.

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