King of Saints

Everything is relative,
at least that’s what you say,
but I can smell it on your breath,
that intoxicating burn of pain.
If you only knew what I can do for you,
inside me-it’s innate,
to build a castle around your heart
and keep guard with my own veins.
I want to take you
I want to make you
feel like the king of saints,
or if it’s all just relative-
the ashes of all that’s done in vain. 

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