The saying goes, of sticks and stones
Only words could never hurt
Yet hungrily, infested me,
Rooted deep within my earth
Lies the pain of loss, not gain
But only discovered power
That found within a demonic grin
Would surely, destroy, devour
Consumed within the origin
Of bounds beheld by greed
At abyssal depths of consciousness
Sprouts insanity from seed
To view the bliss of ignorance
Another soul be claimed
In fire and burning brimstone
Begs the question of "what is sane?"
Perspective held and all is lost
For who knows right from wrong?
You never see, such sprouted seed,
Until you've found where it belongs
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
The saying goes, of sticks and stones
Only words could never hurt
Yet hungrily, infested me,
Rooted deep within my earth
Lies the pain of loss, not gain
But only discovered power
That found within a demonic grin
Would surely, destroy, devour
Consumed within the origin
Of bounds beheld by greed
At abyssal depths of consciousness
Sprouts insanity from seed
To view the bliss of ignorance
Another soul be claimed
In fire and burning brimstone
Begs the question of "what is sane?"
Perspective held and all is lost
For who knows right from wrong?
You never see, such sprouted seed,
Until you've found where it belongs
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