Apollo

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Thou art leading thy disciples away to a bloody death

But willingly so if thou say it beeth for freedom.

Thy pursuits of nobility shalt be of waste,

We shalt not ever be free of the shackles of discrimination.

When thy world's prejudices hath been washed away by spilt blood

And made way for an array of colours only seen in thy mind

In thy vision of the world thou art fighting for.

It will be sicklied o'er with the pale hue of human judgement

And thy blood wilt seep into the earth, forever forgotten

Only mourned by wilting flowers.

How can thine eternal, divine form be driven into decay?

How can I sit idly and let it?

O fair Apollo, my god of the Sun,

No one loves the light, thy light, like a blind man.

How canst thou deny me of the one thing I believe in?

Thou sayest that I am incapable of living, of dying, of feeling and believing

Well, fair Apollo, I can't but say that I believe in thee...

When thou art gone I'll have but none to live for.

If I could only die in thy light, I would die a happy man.

Alas, there are dreams that cannot be.

But I dream that I would be capable to telleth thee

That I wilt die amongst the others, amongst thy friends.

Because 't beeth for a cause thee believe in.

I shalt follow thee into the dark,

If 't be true that I shalt die with thee.

If 't be true that I shalt be with thee.

A.N. Last year I saw a post on tumblr that had some lines from les mis in Early Modern English and I wrote this on a post-it note when my choir was on a bus to some performance.
I have no idea if my grammar is correct. :/ plz don't attack me if it's not. 
Also. I honestly dunno why all my poems are rly short now so uhhhhhhhh...

(IF GRANTAIRE SAID THIS TO ENJOLRAS IDUIJAKNDBJIFH GIGWDVBJjnjdbiUGIJBKDnmn)


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