Unruly are those that come in disguise

No sorrow sets upon the lightness of these beings

Already dead, do they seek new life

since all that is dead wants to live,

Life is precious, one often realizes in retrospect.

Those who are unruly know what it is like.

They can see, fly, be anywhere they might

Haunted are those who disrespect the dead

Who would have thought its only the living with power

blinded by the earth, the comfortable illusion

To hide the horrors that lay elsewhere,

A flaming core hidden with gems

No one is truly free.

Besides me…


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