Choir of Mute Angels

To know of beauty but not feel it

Woe to I, vanquished from within the pit

That a phantom drilled into me and I spit

Into so many times by fleeing as a scarecrow

Metamorphic duality, other and self, pure flow

Transports depth of meaning, held in escrow

Pristine putrid ceremonial, silent incantation

Magnetic ocean tide, sanitary sepsis infection

A radar perfectly functional yet with zero detection

You admire and despise the woe of my eyes

Akin to appreciation of endorphins as he dies

Jester clown wise, crushing pain with pleasure, he never cries

And when he does he cannot help but to realize

That the light within him was killed by the switch

Installed by those who came before him, but the hand of the witch

Was mine all along, now there is nowhere I belong

Save the grace of the lord of natural accord

So vexxing in my unfelt way, to reach the pinnacle, contently bored

To know the true reason for all of the mirrors ignored

Dispassionate aposteosis, an apologetic lament

Remembering the sleepless weak to awaken in cement

The heavy load deposited by my own foolish fortune without a cent

One must become aware of secret sin in order to repent

Choir of mute angels, diamond blood flow, entire lives spent

To adorn a woeful basement labyrinth, deconstructed, immaculate