The spirit has pierced its shell,
Born from infamous thoughts.
The skull is cracked wide open,
Loosened by vile memories.
The lungs have ruptured,
Forcing out the stale air
Heavy with sobs,
And truths I never spoke.
The eyes burst from their sockets,
Reaching for light,
Trying to smother the filthy visions
And cool the burning lids.
The skin peels away,
Leaves falling on the bed,
Tinting the night with dread and wonder.
A body lies open,
Stabbed and riddled with gaping wounds.
Could that be mine?
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
The spirit has pierced its shell,
Born from infamous thoughts.
The skull is cracked wide open,
Loosened by vile memories.
The lungs have ruptured,
Forcing out the stale air
Heavy with sobs,
And truths I never spoke.
The eyes burst from their sockets,
Reaching for light,
Trying to smother the filthy visions
And cool the burning lids.
The skin peels away,
Leaves falling on the bed,
Tinting the night with dread and wonder.
A body lies open,
Stabbed and riddled with gaping wounds.
Could that be mine?