If done the shackles, fated to be,
If dusted the fates, bound to thee,
Past them, gleaned, prayers to see,
If downed, glorious, of the, fleeing me,
If pained, glamorous, with the hand plea,
And if gleeful, generous, to up and agree,
That if dated to be the fates, be it and free,
Self from creases and folds of the world as is.

If minding, the spirit of the blinds, then,
Slowly surging, the viciousness from them,
If shaken by the surge, the energy from men,
Stricken down to a point zero, if timed again,
To the core, if goggled and gazed at, till when,
Up and home, and finding strength in them gone,
And scripted, as morals of a fallen angel, divine.

If shrugged, the sanity, severed in the winds,
Find truce, safest in the sacred caches within,
If foregoing, settled, and forfeited the destined,
Find peace, truest to ties and as heavenly ordained.