HOUR 20 The Tragedy in Chorus

The Tragedy in Chorus

 

My sweet and servile lark,

how you wish to flee incarceration,

My testing set in motion,

Your chance at hand liberation,

My cunning and wicked songbird,

I have afforded freedoms possibility,

My hobbled and observant serin,

Chose flight and endure loving hostility.

 

You chose the route ill-advised,

I watched you still ready and waiting,

You chose escape of my loving touch,

A price to pay a penance degrading,

You chose the path easily predicted,

In shadow and murk, I glide portentous,

You chose poorly amputated queen,

My presence looms in rage tremendous.

 

Our games thought once withdrawn,

The chair, your crutch, swiftly ceased,

Our games change form,

Matching your caged Aria confronting my Tenor in beast,

Our games new developments fitting,

A betrayal must be acknowledged in brutal objection,

Our games progression ever evolving,

But now it’s time forelimb removal and glorious dissection.

 

 

 

 

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