You dropped nuclear whispers and forgot how it radiates
Through the bones and sweeps like grains of sand
Etching painful patterns.
You strut around with your invisible gavel
Hoping to smite me on the head.
Do I look like a mole to you?
The verdict's in and I'm shackled in mallet dust.
At least have the decency to tilt your halo in my direction.
I would love to say that I've been swept away by the sands of angels.
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