For Scrutiny

If my edge were to tumble

I could be kinder,

Though I could never admit

The Crown of cold blindness

Was given to me

To deliver my throne.

Inept,

I come forgiving,

In Trust I survive,

And my town of sorrows

Houses my heart

For scrutiny.

My Crown of cold blindness

Emits my tonal song,

As I strike a chord

For freedoms sake.

I candle my crimson,

Incandescence with love.

I timber my well

With my moisture.

I drink for a while

At my Dove.

I cradle my innocence anew

I tend to my honour and love.

©️2018. Christopher Thompson

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