Rare Anger - Lowercase

You stand atop the spires

To see your vigil fires

Burn so far away

On a saffron mezzanine

You were a statue liar

Your schisms did conspire

The crumbled stones remain

Covered with bloody stains

To be the next messiah

To be your own pariah

You have enough to say

To make it through the day

A swan of blood takes flight

Lachrymal stench of night

You fall so well beneath

Where you’re supposed to be

You’ve acted out your tragedy

And now it’s time to give it to me

Give it to me

You wear the cloak of the furies

As if you cannot be set free

Set me free