Shores of Ill 

With the weak, you weep, you lay, Upon the Shores of Ill. 
Until I see your face, I myself am weak. I weep. 
In the place of Unforgiven, my grace is given, unto thee. 
A pearl, a frill, a thing of evil, 
You're lost forever In a looping world of good. 
I could, I can't remove the divine implant 
That sets your life upon The Shores of Ill. 
But you cannot escape the cage of hate. 
Undo, undone, there is no one but the weak. 
And you are one, as you lay, as you die. 
Upon the Shores of Ill. 
  
12/97 
  
1999 © Joshua Golden