Its thick leather wraps like the layer of skin
Broken into by God
Our souls resting beneath its core
Its veins run course from the streaks of light it sheds
A delicate orb of moisture providing the very same life you once had
Now snapped at the vine of Earth
Banished forth to the afterlife of our bodies
And now torn by the thick paws of the beast
Claws rushing down your spherical canvas from the moment HE swallowed your breath
To the day He ripped all else from the tree
What gives you the urge to trickle the bright red from your blanket
Once patterned with gold but now soiled in the aftermath of a war
I used to breathe love but my lungs breathed hate
The same way a fire gives warmth but will shed to **** life
The corpse of your tongue stays moist and warmer than all
The sole pallette living with the flavor of fruit
Craving life like the way you crave it's sweetness
But once the taste dies down
So does your will to continue on
Thus the consumption of the fruit is the desecration of a breathe
Your last memory of your last sense
The touch of a golden sun
And the grime of a sweetened moon
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Its thick leather wraps like the layer of skin
Broken into by God
Our souls resting beneath its core
Its veins run course from the streaks of light it sheds
A delicate orb of moisture providing the very same life you once had
Now snapped at the vine of Earth
Banished forth to the afterlife of our bodies
And now torn by the thick paws of the beast
Claws rushing down your spherical canvas from the moment HE swallowed your breath
To the day He ripped all else from the tree
What gives you the urge to trickle the bright red from your blanket
Once patterned with gold but now soiled in the aftermath of a war
I used to breathe love but my lungs breathed hate
The same way a fire gives warmth but will shed to **** life
The corpse of your tongue stays moist and warmer than all
The sole pallette living with the flavor of fruit
Craving life like the way you crave it's sweetness
But once the taste dies down
So does your will to continue on
Thus the consumption of the fruit is the desecration of a breathe
Your last memory of your last sense
The touch of a golden sun
And the grime of a sweetened moon