It's more than broken,
my destroyed vessel.
I fear that it may never again
run with efficiency.
Decay plays upon the shell,
death emits a smell,
a rotten hell of necrosis.
For this, my friend,
is my penance.
My payment for thankless disobedience.
A sense of burnt offerings
never offered.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 2:33 PM UTC
It's more than broken,
my destroyed vessel.
I fear that it may never again
run with efficiency.
Decay plays upon the shell,
death emits a smell,
a rotten hell of necrosis.
For this, my friend,
is my penance.
My payment for thankless disobedience.
A sense of burnt offerings
never offered.
