Colossal
Even the colossal is emptied with the reign of heavy time, But, once it has lent bribe in her prime to silence the voice of lambs perished in the peril of pariah, Of evil storms—unhinged in the chaos, unheard of in the outskirts, Survives the drowning at the cost of bulky memories filled with blisters of hurt and outgrowing. Decay or slow rupture? Erasure of ego with the advent of rage, of savage time. Softening of the voice and trembling of the threatened throat that once roared epic pilgrimage, You don't need to pick every cue from the colossal; It is deemed to be soiled into dust and ashes... Until then, you see the fray, The cost of being abruptly massive and subtly lessened. Colossal in rage and wrath, now wishes to be cuddled! If not, then at least remembered, That once wanted to dismember every amber, Now, intend to stitch woolcraft from scratch and draw sketches - Of a veneer moth flamed until it turned into livestock and a funneled vessel, A ...