Formal Shorts

A monster, not to me
The eye beholds beauty
My ideas may be old
But I've been stuck in the cold
There's elegance in your fists
Wear violence when it fits

Time keeps on slipping
The shots keep on missing
Although space may be torn
And my welcome may be worn
I'm persistent if nothing else
I've already heard bells

For you, I'd move stars
To express deep from my heart
Spent so much time searching
But the methods are unseen
Although my art may be stole
I'll escape from the black hole



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