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The shadows from the vultures that surround my palace of decay
darken the sky in patterns of flight.

So eager to taste the cold blood leaking from this habitat
of flesh that embodies my undying soul.

The world flies by leaving me in this room of thoughtful bliss.

My hands bleed from tearing at the walls of insanity
that are erected from drowning in my good intentions.

A tribute to many objurgations concerning
my empty promises and signals of false hope.
.
This grave I've been digging for years has no bars
nor any control on the outcome of my fate.

Only a pressing sense of depression
during these fleeting moments of solitude.

I will defeat hell once again. I will rise above.

It is written in the wax of a thousand candles.

They speak it into existence daily.

Relinquishing all animosity towards my foes.

I will turn to face them with a grin.

I will break this cycle of hurting the one's I love the most.

The demons that crawl after me will have to crawl faster.

Time is my worst enemy and I have very little to spare.

I am heading on a long ****** conquest.

and at end I will find you there.




© 2008 joshua deathdealer
woolgather Apr 2016
Picture-perfect lives,
The limelight strobes,
The telltale happiness;
Basking in fame,
Basking in glory,
A staple in the norm;
Embodiment of ken,
Unlikely, the blackest of hearts.

What seems out on the surface,
Cannot be par with what is within;
What is found to be a joyous smile,
Is to be a saddened grin.
Yet what matters is what is dumb,
Yet what prevails is what is fake,
Yet what seems gold is really colored stone;
Nothing that happens is what it seems.

I have seen the truth of society!
I have seen the puppeteers behind the strings!
I have seen the death of innocence;
The cadavers of lost greatness!
How are you to impart with me;
A beacon of hope? Oh please!
I have heard enough of your lies!
I have heard enough of your false realities!

But among these objurgations,
I cannot do not one thing.
What bravery one can tell,
Cannot be the same with what he is;
Alas, once more, I end my revolt
Against this cruel nightmare;
I return the mask I wear:
I return the lies I am.
I am tired sitting pretty, watching everything around me rot into anger and despair.

What a nice world it is.

— The End —