Jun 19

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Cursed with imagination taboo, the Unspeakable

Knows not from whence the thoughts flow, but the baton he cannot pass on

With none to appreciate, no one to receive his heart

Their minds blinded by conjecture and distrust


Where can the energy freely flow, without fear or hate?

A utopia of Beauty and Love such as this cannot exist!

For whom might the Unspeakable steward his riches?

As riches they are to naught but himself!


To read between the unsaid lines, to think the unspeakable

Only the perverted of mind can see Beauty in these things

His altruism lost in translation, mistaken for Impiety

The acts of purity received as Naivety.


Lost in a torrent of creative deviance

The Unspeakable cannot help but conjure his witchcraft

His good intentions go to waste, as the world marvels at his wickedness

Unwittingly the message cut short, replaced with the imposter Prejudice


Still the Unspeakable presses on, content with the misunderstandings bestowed

The impetus founded in the hope of inspiration

In the lies of the world his Truth might yet be found

For the seeker without bias, doubt or fear


The Truth that can only be known to the Unspeakable

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