On the ground
I
Beat
My
Fists
****** mud cakes on cold, numb hands as i beat my grief-stricken syncopation. Howling wails deep from pain I've not felt tare out my mouth with convulsing sobs and the memories of things not yet done play havoc on my already streched thin mind.
I plead, but mercy is not a currency traded in this sorrow laden mire.
After my time in eternity, i rise to my feet knowing that my time has come and to meet with destiny, the meeting is at 8.
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 4:17 PM UTC
On the ground
I
Beat
My
Fists
****** mud cakes on cold, numb hands as i beat my grief-stricken syncopation. Howling wails deep from pain I've not felt tare out my mouth with convulsing sobs and the memories of things not yet done play havoc on my already streched thin mind.
I plead, but mercy is not a currency traded in this sorrow laden mire.
After my time in eternity, i rise to my feet knowing that my time has come and to meet with destiny, the meeting is at 8.