Posted in Big Brother, Consciousness, Earth, Esoteric knowledge, government, poetry

Here I Come With the Wicked

I’ve found the coordinates,
The corner of the park,
Glowing red energy,
From above, from below,
Igniting my power’s pilot light.

Sword in possession, yet dull,
Not sure of the necessity of armour,
A tight grip takes me back,
Travel to the dark ages,
But light always prevails.

Collateral damage,
Minimized by the collection of warriors,
Only bloodlines of the wicked,
Extinguished for eternity,
The walking dead will follow.

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