An epic poem written by Lee Sonogan
Many worlds no more,
Listen to my cries.
Dragged off the stage’s backdoor,
He lacks the strength that resists.
The witch was aware for then followed,
She knows a burning at the stake.
Carried above the anger mobbed.
Sound blasts a disorienting headache.
Wait for her words,
This is my only evidence!
People breaking out into two-thirds,
No justice, no peace! Malevolence.
Your missing the conclusion,
I’m not finished.
Our immortal’s hope diminished.
On that cross!
Let Jesus judge him!
There was no boss,
Storefronts ripped slim.
Bundles were thrown at his feet,
Which were products and interior timber.
Tied up with rope on the street,
A lit rag on a stick light up in an ember.
Corned by three-sixty degrees,
Bound hands rip at his wrists.
Choatic screaming by the bourgeoisie,
Forming steampunk rebellion attracting cysts.
Confess your crime’s details!
Someone pokes him with a lance,
Lucky you did not get the nails!
Get away from me with that thing!
Again giving him a crown of thorns.
Wearing the Christian sign of a king,
But not the power of the devil’s horns.
Out antagonist struts to the front section,
The artist formerly known as Austin spots looks up.
Spotting her out of many with affection,
Fear eased against the time’s period rotary club.
I say again,
Where is the enlightened woman?
Spare my life Doe, Jane,
Proof is in the pudding!
Most put their masks back on their face.
Reminded of a dreamy deju vu,
Just missing his head flew a vase.
Running stretcher comes in the last second,
Frontlines instantly become less aggressive.
Does she beckon?
Thank you for being more passive!
My presence reaches the injured,
They make room as I command.
Starting healing order, tiny hate towards all still whispered.
Magic right now from a common eye seems bland.
Look at the woman I know to trust!
Shut the hell up yells a loud individual.
Inner narrative – Without any infinite rust..
Feelings here are reciprocal.
On the human back of answers,
Heavy breathing quieted down.
At the moment there were no banners.
Rumours centuries later were spoken by locals in that town.