Oh, lonely tower made of bone
days of endless sun shone
and made you unready for flights of rain
that made breaches of your walls that forever stain;
the cracks and the voids in a tool now useless
to show your life as one that was ruthless.

O' tower, your tyranny delights in the flights of fancy
your material expensive. exotic. chancy.
In glory divine, in destruction divide
is it really not clear why your enemies hide?

Is there naught in your reign you cannot justify?

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