Son Of Babylon

Tete-e-Tete on a foyer

he bows his head in a prayer

spiraling, sooner than later

the old town hall grows dimmer

 

Pre-nostalgic vibes on the edge

The rechoreting sound of silence

safe to say, he feels lurid

everything surmises after all

 

Like a lewd bawd in midsummer’s ball

Like a shrewd mother shields her youngling

From the shards of a filtering moonbeams

Reminding him he was raised on holy grounds

 

 

Son of Babylon, Cry for me

Let me lay on your bosom

Let our breaths synchronize

No iota of reprucusions

 

Our bodies must pay the price

With every breath

I beg thee, Son of Babylon

Save thyself.

 

Image credit: Pinterest

 

 

 

 

 

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