Lowercase
rare anger
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You stand atop the spires
To see your vigil fires
Burn so far away
On a saffron mezzanine
You were a statue liar
Your schisms did conspire
The crumbled stones remain
Covered with bloody stains
To be the next messiah
To be your own pariah
You have enough to say
To make it through the day
A swan of blood takes flight
Lachrymal stench of night
You fall so well beneath
Where you're supposed to be
You've acted out your tragedy
And now it's time to give it to me
Give it to me
You wear the cloak of the furies
As if you cannot be set free
Set me free