Emily+Emulation

Emily Emulation

There's a certain Lie of favor, Quiet Morning-- That burdens, like the Heft Of Summer Sunsets--

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-- We can see no gash, But internal rift, Where the light, sits--

None may teach it--all-- 'Tis the Stamp Despair-- A supreme condition Sent us of the distance--

When it speaks, the Acres listen-- Demons-- hold their tongue-- When it quiets, 'tis like the Measure On the look of Death--