To be the ticking bomb of time,
Two lovers link in perfect rhyme.
Crystals on the burning moon,
In deadly pace and time, and tune.
To be the artwork on the clock,
With ribbon on the child's frock,
Stained and fraying at the hem,
The Reaper will appear again.

To be the stalker, follow free,
He will turn and run to me.
Aphrodite, now shall see,
A goddess judged by number three.
With corners sharp and edges strong
Lava, she did not belong.
Owner to her devil sin,
Devil makes her sin again.

To be the marble strength of touch,
Liquid burns as gasses clutch.
Water makes retreat so soon,
He has no time, to warn the moon.
To be the God of growing seed,
We abuse the flower and plant the weed.
Sunshine she did not belong,
To acoustic strength or bird's love song.
Sweetheart, I do not find,
Love in battle, or strength in time.

Manipulate a word for me,

Make it real,

set her free.

Boneata Bell


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