A Dream of the Creators

Seven sultry sirens slice the surface of the setting sun

Their screams silent in the solar sonnet softly screeching soulless sentiments

Swiftly swept sunwards on beams of blue shadow

Carelessly caressing their divine designs diligently dissecting dead demons

Devoid of emitting emotion emerging endlessly eroding eruption

Moving mountains of molten memories

Manipulating minds managing markets maliciously making us all

Adding artificial addictive additions

Actively animating alienation of the nations

Narrowly negatively nuking natives powering profit

Perpetually maintaining Roman rights and rituals



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