All the rusted blades
A yield so thin and vain
Yet the master bade
That I call down the rain
And the faery craft
That made those swords of old
From an angel's laugh
Hastened to be bold
With blood so green and vivid
Such daggers sprouted forth
With the devil's face so livid
At the faery's grassy sport
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey
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