Buried alive, beneath the rhetorical lies.
Of a thousand broken-prayer beads.

Surrounded by all of my....
False hopes.
Fake friends.
&
Some, hornet priests
who are exorcising their own demons.
On a ******* fueled ****** of sadism in it's own right.

On the dark side of the confession booth. This is nothing.

But a divine
waste of my time.
I'll see you all, in Hell.

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.