It is dark, and in this chamber nothing
can be seen. The sheer pain in the knowledge
that another will come to me, feeling
rage in knowing whoevers patronage
towards the beasts who rip and marr my flesh
will never be brought to justice at all.
I can smell their gaping maws are now fresh
with the blood that will splatter on the wall.
Rip and tear, my muscle and bone, until
the hour strikes forth for them to retreat.
The abominations, having their fill,
scampering away, 'til next that we meet.
I hear sounds of words; I am dragged away.
I hope God's not real. He'll have hell to pay.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
It is dark, and in this chamber nothing
can be seen. The sheer pain in the knowledge
that another will come to me, feeling
rage in knowing whoevers patronage
towards the beasts who rip and marr my flesh
will never be brought to justice at all.
I can smell their gaping maws are now fresh
with the blood that will splatter on the wall.
Rip and tear, my muscle and bone, until
the hour strikes forth for them to retreat.
The abominations, having their fill,
scampering away, 'til next that we meet.
I hear sounds of words; I am dragged away.
I hope God's not real. He'll have hell to pay.
