A thousand strands of
beautiful woven death.
Though they hang like
silk nets holding
the suffocating twine of eternity.
Each one is eventually severed,
and bleached filaments
gather below, static and devoid
of deaths adulation.
What was well kept, is now
discontinued echoes.
No longer the adulation of
obliteration,
just void less inconsequence.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 3:00 PM UTC
A thousand strands of
beautiful woven death.
Though they hang like
silk nets holding
the suffocating twine of eternity.
Each one is eventually severed,
and bleached filaments
gather below, static and devoid
of deaths adulation.
What was well kept, is now
discontinued echoes.
No longer the adulation of
obliteration,
just void less inconsequence.
