This, my tomb of "solace", has not heard me stir,
For months I lay here dying upon little spoken words,
Ingratiating sadness upon what little I have left,
Forced upon a decision to return what was bereft.
-
I must make clear in present story
That I fear not God, nor Glory,
I must **** to not "feel" but "Be"
Whatever here entices me.
Pray tell, what is it that you fear most?
Your Hell, I fear, that I must host.
-
A couplet, a stanza, here and there,
About someone's false blood in air,
For fear of failure do I not agree,
At yet, I claim Death's Majesty.
For you see, I am Death's Reincarnate,
His Left Hand, His "Doom's Profligate"
-
Enchanting screams of splattering blood,
Empathetic scalpels from a figure in hood,
Fate loves the dying and Her wishes should
Bring actions closer to Her decaying brood.
I save the tears and sanguine to bathe,
The last exhale is what I crave
To hear regularly so I may sleep,
To never awake, is what I dream.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
This, my tomb of "solace", has not heard me stir,
For months I lay here dying upon little spoken words,
Ingratiating sadness upon what little I have left,
Forced upon a decision to return what was bereft.
-
I must make clear in present story
That I fear not God, nor Glory,
I must **** to not "feel" but "Be"
Whatever here entices me.
Pray tell, what is it that you fear most?
Your Hell, I fear, that I must host.
-
A couplet, a stanza, here and there,
About someone's false blood in air,
For fear of failure do I not agree,
At yet, I claim Death's Majesty.
For you see, I am Death's Reincarnate,
His Left Hand, His "Doom's Profligate"
-
Enchanting screams of splattering blood,
Empathetic scalpels from a figure in hood,
Fate loves the dying and Her wishes should
Bring actions closer to Her decaying brood.
I save the tears and sanguine to bathe,
The last exhale is what I crave
To hear regularly so I may sleep,
To never awake, is what I dream.
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