deepundergroundpoetry.com
Lord may i
Death has become me,I yielded unto a massacre, losing my rights to beg of Lord Satan...
I bowed, I craved,yet my tears weaken me,I must omit unto the being that chimed in upon my stride.
I call it beautiful ,murder was not the crow for my hands must unshackle the choice I painted in weakness. .Satan, be it deuce, how did I falter and yet my wings still flutter in search of a pardon, ,fore death will come unto the flesh that has forsaken you as my words chaffed the loosen recall of my last promise,,,
A death unto the murder of....
I bowed, I craved,yet my tears weaken me,I must omit unto the being that chimed in upon my stride.
I call it beautiful ,murder was not the crow for my hands must unshackle the choice I painted in weakness. .Satan, be it deuce, how did I falter and yet my wings still flutter in search of a pardon, ,fore death will come unto the flesh that has forsaken you as my words chaffed the loosen recall of my last promise,,,
A death unto the murder of....
Published 19th Jul 2015
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