Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Going through the daily changes, I feel the slip of mental ranges. I beg the devils to stop what they're doin', for soon I may lie cold and in ruin. The sweet smell of blood that lingers around, I feel the crawl of my thorned crown. Tell all these demons to stop what they're doin', and send mercy to this soul who lies so in ruin.
0
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Devils
Going through the daily changes, I feel the slip of mental ranges. I beg the devils to stop what they're doin', for soon I may lie cold and in ruin. The sweet smell of blood that lingers around, I feel the crawl of my thorned crown. Tell all these demons to stop what they're doin', and send mercy to this soul who lies so in ruin.
Written by
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem