Elizabeth

With grains of sand in my hands
I run to town to pay for happiness
Though she resides in the castle
She still sends parties for me
Across the field grazing
Diatribe flames from hierarchy
Dragons’ destruction while flying
Small towns, visited then left
I still wear her brand on my chest
Spotted and turned in for bruising
She hears only rumors of my ruins
Kneeling to pay a fickle dept
With no pickle on my sandwich
I do not believe I have any cheeks
She is on the news with bruises
Shocks are smothered via snow
Your gardens have been irrigated
And many moons have risen
A baron womb could not displace me
Biz, meth, and I in prison sheets
White as our guilt
Elizabeth can’t marry me

Elizabeth

ideafactory

Joined March 2008

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