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Chapter 7 - 7. Panacean Pastiche

With my bleeding sword

and tired, sprained legs

I Journey on, mystory untold

baggaged, yet  without bags

Through this twisted maze

and heavy lungs

and this thirsty tongue

towards 1 price, locked in gaze

Upon an inevitable claim

past this heartless game

towards my heartfelt gain

Of a soulful, sinless tame/chain

To invade and reclaim

Ur heart, from its tames/flames 

long cages of insecurities

And imprudent impurities

Caused by its inhabitant

your "immaculate" bae

that impeccable serpent

which keeps you at bay

Just so I may (come and)

cure my own/portentous void

with your affectionate clay

n become not devoid

but romantically cloyed

Once we're  both refurn/bished

And im your remedy

(basking) in your serenity

Hennessy mouldings our sanity

Into Rome o' Juliet's mentally'destined

If not Our own, panacean pastiche

Where we'll picnic

Upon the sea of time

whilst fishing out its stars

Watching n Waiting for the sun

To bite our fishing rod

Just so we may catch and pat it

Before throwing it back into the water

Just so it may

brighten up the sea of time

For some thousand years