---

bloom or burn, who decides the serpent's course?

prove to me, i am no waste

hearken to this orchard before you

the world slaves chose their bonds before

all i seek is enough to provide you

with all i am

my remaining strength will force

the walls to crumble

scattering the fragments of my

"soul" to all

sitting in wait to outstretch their hand

for pride

baffled with conception left behind

the price of existence inclined

with a buried head or fists in your eyes

common visions, like conduit that leads

into the center

diverging from me following with them is promised an uneasy home

i will waste you before you force my hand

pride behind inclined eyes leads me home