#112 (or The visitor carries the portent)

I’ve got that thrill again
It comes right to the bones
Brings the ascension to men
and falls to the thrones

She offered her hand
said “take it to atone.
The Lord won’t contest
what he must condone.”

I wrote my bequest
“so many sins, ’til the end,
and i regret none”
left there, for my tombstone.

last words windblown
tell mom i didn’t meant
do not crawl for my laments
i just couldn’t hang on

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