This Is Hell Itself

Philip Daniel Cook

Where the golden Sphinx, 

finds it's end.

Fool-hearted 

as it's croft.

We leave emptier than

ourselves allow.

 

The darkness allows hell itself!

 

Breathe dust, breathe in hell eternal bells.

Scream slowly in this backside 

messiah that 

never cared nobody

told you were the one

who needed to care.

Of my time, a gear and cog.

True lies eternal spells bleed my head

haunted my soul, deep in the illusions.

Sick as the oceans themselves, fever in this

hell.

 

  • Author: ReflectionShadow (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 7th, 2018 19:58
  • Comment from author about the poem: The category is what hell looks like....
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 30
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