Wishing Eraser

Stands or Morales II

"Mother, they hath asserted I has't an infirmity,"
"Is that true, Mother? I desiderate to live, merrily,"
Uttered from an unsullied whose ménage jilted the 'un, needs (in) propriety.
The mother is seeking, she liveth on the 'un, miserably expecting (a) gaiety.
"Mother, I feeleth not guilty, thus, 't is not mine (own) frailty,"
"Mother, I am different, wast that, I did shun from society which is thy?"
Wast 'un keeking upon hitherto perished/losade beauty?
'Un hast not gleaned a reply(eth) from The Diety,
Don't alloweth 'Un (to) cry.

"Mother, I always beg to God for a place in Its Land."
"Albeit, I am different, 't is not erroneous to plead,"
"right mother, whose child is jilted."
"Mother, will they seek for me how time I am on this land?"
"Mother I has't at each moment wanted to tellan thee a legend,"
"it's about one of me, thrown into an abyss, being scourged,"
"Is that true, Mother? Will I beest the one whose being sent by God?"
"Mother I've always petrified,"
"Should I be petrified upon a legend?"
Entirely nescient, which mankind is half vapid.
'Un would(st) thee thole their regret, if('t be true) they do, whilst thou are abhorred
"Mother, what is this world?"
"Mother, do thee know Pompeei? What (hath) happened?"
"God must (has't been) those cursed"
Myself don't perceive Its Stand
'Un, name one which made thee variegated!
"Mother, sometimes a part of me feel(ing) benumbed"
"Mother, wherefore those think whose self w're the finest amongst fabulous creation(s) of God?"
"Mother, this is not a malady (which is) given by God."
"Mother, if those hath said everyone shall wend to the Heaven, those hath might lied!
"If't be true (so), The Heaven shall not has't an end!
"But, I would(st) trust myself yond The Heaven hast an end!

"Mother, this is mine own choice!"
"Wouldst thee anon believe?"
"I has't been pondering through times. 'T hast been awhile"
"Mother, wouldst thee embrace me?"
"For the twice, I wish(eth) to the Demiurge."
"The same, over time just gone."
'Un kneweth, part of 'Un's world, not by 'Un's side
We may cannot accept 'Un's dissimilitude
We may need God's response

"Mother, the pavement shall beest mine own billet tonight,"
"Their faces, were a spurn against me and mine own brothers/coevals, now I myself am a peasant!"
'Un is agitated, and hurt.
'Un, woulds't thee calm yourself down tonight?
No one woulds't ever hat'h heard it.
I deem no one, (either) wants it,
Sure, 'Un doesn't want himself beneath a pumice tablet/monument.
'Un only wants comfort..
"Mother, the instants day by day, were the same as yesterday's instant.."
"Melancholy maketh alteration, alloweth me to doze once again on the pavement."
"Mother, mine own choice made me like this, overlie the pavement, crusted in tatters, nestled in December, and besmeared in sweat and torment."
"Where is The Most Wondrous Promises? It established the superior promises, lief mother! Mother, did It wholly cast a pretext?" 
The texts which were condemned, are demanding right..
Backeth from the epoch of Lot,
Since then, it has all did start and may obstruct
"Mother, 't is iniquitous to abide yous, there shall not beest any entail for consent!"
"Mine own choice is determined, and I am certain yond the choice is not predetermined. Mother, the norms may has't (a) long-time hath lost,"
"Did He create us? Does He fancy for us? Mother, I may not perceive His answer yet. Yet, the changes cannot beest penned on His precept."
"Mother, for times, I cannot stand the glacial-tenor, the look on theirs, (might) made me feel(eth) regret."
Illumined by lamps while stargazing, for the first,
'Un feels it at last..
"At last I, maybe myself, am exuberant."
'Un appreciated Him, in (a) such jovial spirit,
'Un appreciated Him, in (a) such jovial feel. Alas, it may feel like a prompt
"Mother, tonight I can appreciate God's pensile constellation. Such a heavenly lustre created by His Spirit."
"Mother, will He ever convert (His Text)?"
"There's nay such way there shall beest another prophet,"
"Mother, I don't fancy Him to bring Lot's event"
"Mother, what is the point of dreaming if the sooth is in front?"

Beneath God's bulwark, 'Un may not perceive His Deed
Irradiating tears of His nonpareil-luminiferous stand 
"Mother, are we très being loathed?"
"Once He might was, He just prayed."
"Née (called) a sacrilege, now those said, this is more than a misdeed!"
Unruly presentiment of those, those may not unfeigned,
God's Greatness may not be abed.
Rouge is tinging, 'Un's cheeks are eventually rouged.
Ought to change 'Un self from His demand,
"Halt! Shalt I say to Him, mother. But I cannot. I has't been hushed!"
"Omniscient-muchness, those personages are not divine unlike His, mother, I do not put mine own faith on those kind! Those people doth sway mine own mind."

-Special issue(d) LGBTQ+ poetry.