Bloody Knuckles (day 372)

Fully loaded with iron fists of chance
Looking for a way into the new world
Looking for a breath of romance
Knuckles bloody with beating
Hands taught with the rings of chains
Guilty with the pressures of intoxication
Hacked by the curses of Mordor
Beaten by the eyes of the remedy
And soaking in the sin of the distance
Stepping over stones
Looking at hands full of soot

Hands, full of lines
Left over memories
Stories that need wise eyes to tell
Cards that stare back at the sin
Groove talking, sinister dealing
Mad man making, life(less) wielding
And here I sit, working with endless gaps
Pressed between my teeth
Like the random stones of time
Breaking beneath the uneven ground
Ground like flesh in the night

Foolish sinners who mask their pride
Lust will not await the banked remorse
Love will be lost in the ground up strength
Perhaps then the beautiful wisps of dust
Will float their way north
In an never ending spiral towards the sun
Gravity not taking it’s toll on this lone son
Green grass sinking in beneath the toes
Making the glow feel less awkward
Hiding the turmoil like a warm glove
Today will fill up the soul

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