- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Mother Lore, Father Gore
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The meadevil criers;
upon their shoulders carried
the weight of the world.
The meadevil criers,
lust was filled in all the voices.
The waiting of the world.
The meadevil criers;
lost upon their journey,
along the way of the world.
The world of longing,
long gone from the weepers
long gone from the weepers,
not so long did they stain their cheeks
with blood.
The meadevil criers,
alone will bleed their tears.
The weight of the world is upon
their shoulders.
The meadevil,
the meadevll.
The devil, mean and evil.
The criers see his face.
Guess the child brought home.
The wonderful man was there.
Alone together,
swearing in sweat,
they are nothing together.
Nothing forever.
Criers...
Crying...
The meadevil cries;
upon their shoulders they carry,
the weight of their dead.
Written by: JasperMan
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