Romanticize the soul my
son.
Search in those awful,
hideous places,
wade the current
crimson
floating on a raft of
tears.
Go into the meadow,
although
it be damp and bleak.
Find the flowers, plant
them anew.
Find the pain and
uproot them for now.
Fall in love with the
evil,
love that gorgon face
that turns you to stone.
Take those flowers from
the darkness
and feed them to the
mouths of vipers.
Climb that keep, made
of straw.
Scurry up the side to
play your ballad
and sweep her off of
her feet.
Romanticize your soul
my love,
and then, live freely.
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