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archit-srivastavaPoems
I **** people with the knife of fear without hesitation In their world, its just another day of hallucination Churning out muck from the milk of the bodies of the dead Seeing them die with agony in hell's own bed The pleasure I receive,the relief that I get From the ****** bodies that I behead The terror that grips them day and night I never miss it out of my sight The web of commonness to which they stick to I give them a new world of pain to go through I, the doctor of the dead and devil of hope I give their demented souls a boat of peace to row The darkness that lurks around and the silence that prolongs That is the only thing they see and in their ears that echoes around I slash them with the sword of anguishness I help their suffered souls to attain true tranquilness I relieve them from the trance they live in From the decayed mind with which they from heaven ship in I see the agitated bodies lying in my hands Whom I bury with the shovel of hatred into the blood stained sands The ethereal hearts,in my hands I take them I shred them out and give the dogs to feed them I live to see them get killed And with a sigh, I pray to the God of Hell and dream of someone someday devouring upon my dead body's filth.
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Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
The Sadistic Darkness.
I **** people with the knife of fear without hesitation In their world, its just another day of hallucination Churning out muck from the milk of the bodies of the dead Seeing them die with agony in hell's own bed The pleasure I receive,the relief that I get From the ****** bodies that I behead The terror that grips them day and night I never miss it out of my sight The web of commonness to which they stick to I give them a new world of pain to go through I, the doctor of the dead and devil of hope I give their demented souls a boat of peace to row The darkness that lurks around and the silence that prolongs That is the only thing they see and in their ears that echoes around I slash them with the sword of anguishness I help their suffered souls to attain true tranquilness I relieve them from the trance they live in From the decayed mind with which they from heaven ship in I see the agitated bodies lying in my hands Whom I bury with the shovel of hatred into the blood stained sands The ethereal hearts,in my hands I take them I shred them out and give the dogs to feed them I live to see them get killed And with a sigh, I pray to the God of Hell and dream of someone someday devouring upon my dead body's filth.
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archit-srivastava
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
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