Casting Stones

These wicked ways of mine
You say
Are destined to leave me
Yearning for a more
Youthful exuberance
Yet your words
Bathed in filth and decay
Only destroy
The mere mortal souls
Of the company
You hold so dear
Survival
In it's purest form
Casting stones
Where only
Supple vines flourish
Held captive
By the shackles
Resting
In peaceful slumber
At your feet.
A rapture
So distant in memory
That it only exists
In the presence
Of another's tragedy-

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