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) - Published: March 7th, 2018 19:58
- Comment from author about the poem: The category is what hell looks like....
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
Offline)
Comments1
Very nice and clever out of the box
write on ww
what's ww?
Willyweed
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