Roping and waiting and lapping it up

Meagerly building an empire of my very own.

Ode to the true days

Where you could take what wasn’t yours and let your seeds grow.

Ode to the rope that binds me.

Why haven’t you moved me?

Im waiting to be shoved off my throne into the dirt and have my stomach ripped open and have my organs stretched over continents.

Why haven’t you displaced me so you can burn my fields and impale our collective hearts on a stake burnt out, perpetually ash.

I will just lap my kingdom up like a cat with milk, I will over indulge and be sick and wither and yelp like a dog thats been hit fatally by a moving vehicle.

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