The Moments Above The Throne

This persona I project
at its depth
is a wall for sure
and as the fleece
falls on fire
they run and stall
because from carrying
the carrion of man
the stench is one to abhore
and in the sea
a story is passed
proded and pruned
till it's just what (a)t-he-y(z) want
well look
bare not his fate
see not his face
your stairways he carries
your belief in your sins
so bludgeondly batter in
since you were a kid
that this blat is ephemeral
from some angelic rebel
who some how slithered his way to be King.