alas, to govern

alas, my gull is in tormented tongues, and forgoing the mass prowess, i look keen to falter. no more do i look seasoned, for the gulls no longer captivate, nor give flight to this shroud in pieces. to western sky, a note rings arched and incandescent. it flees, beckoning these pale waters to burn. face the outer shallowness. it contains pleasantries, to which i never will forget. my armor has leaned into carnaverous underpinnings. shall it never be at ill ease? dove eyed wilts, and so it can spill the eternity inside salvation. me, i am never to be. locks can give, and give it will be done, like the naive skies. me, i am not. alas, forget the prison that bereaves the very bleeding of skin. look farther, and deeper into one cold place, aforementioned stilted, stacked, and governed power. no justice here. reaped, and swallowed, to offend no one. to cast a memory, or doubt in place, and sever some palace that inside can never decide to burn. leave it all, with no trace, or fleeting moment. a cycle cannot be placed aside, or rather eaten away like a failed queen and what will take to drink the crown. one, or two, or three thousand souls will try to conspire. do not believe what shroud makes the darkness belie. mention no one but yourself, with every last blood soaked mirror that crawls at your vein. think of nothing but this deed, this maliced and grieving shrine of inconsiderable circumstance.