They say that Pandæmonium’s design
Was drawn by heaven’s architect as well
A place that was approved by One Divine
The place they call the capital of Hell
From heaven cast, the demons found a place
Where all created demons always dwell
Then suddenly there seemed to be a race
To what they call the capital of Hell
If Pandæmonium begets blank time
Or time becomes a god like me or you
We see the Word become a goddamned Rhyme
As if it all depends on order too
Is all we need from life, a simple song?
The place where Pandæmoniums belong.
This entry was posted on Sunday, January 14th, 2024 at 4:06 pm and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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