Death has commenced
Its never-ending tale,
Taking lives, spreading lies
Across the boundaries,
Scorching the fiery flame
Engulfing, within the chambers
Of a solemn coffin,
Morbid.
Where the body decays,
Worms feasting the flesh,
Eyes bloodied, torn out,
As the soul is tortured
Hanged from above,
While demons watched
Its perpetual dance,
Delirium.















Comments
--
Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
--
Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
--
Ceade mile failte
Come away! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand-W.B. Yeats :icongeekflirt:
--
Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
--
Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one creates.
--
Ceade mile failte
Come away! O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
you can understand-W.B. Yeats :icongeekflirt:
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