deepundergroundpoetry.com

- - - THE DARKEST HOUR - - -

A presence shrouds every waking minute of my day
The sun doesn't rise anymore leaving my steps to become dark and grey
A pile of raw meat left on the floor born to fester with a rancid smell
There is so much gore splattered about, I don't know what I am anymore

I don't know who I am

This is the darkest hour
Laid before blood eclipse
When the lost years turned sour
Into the night
I still pound my fists

A constant sense of failure
A constant sense of shame
The masques I wear to hide the bullet hole
Will never be the same

Undying rage centered within the core of this barely alive thing
Always lashing out at loved ones, on their knees to constantly scrub the stain
I am the destroyer of their lives, reserving my spot behind turned backs
To succumb to my damages that I, myself, have claimed as mine

I don't know what I've done

This is the darkest hour
Laid before blood eclipse
When the lost years turned sour
Into the night
I still pound my fists

A constant sense of failure
A constant sense of shame
The masques I wear to hide the bullet hole
Will never be the same

The Crimson King
Stares down at me
Does he see a monster
Or another king?

In the darkest days
When you are better off dead
In the darkest days
It's hard to hold up my head

The Scarlet Eye
Stares down at me
In the grip of the storm
I run out of time

This is the darkest hour
Laid before blood eclipse
When the lost years turned sour
Into the night
I still pound my fists

A constant sense of failure
A constant sense of shame
The masques I wear to hide the bullet hole
Will never be the same

In the darkest days
When you are better off dead
In the darkest days
It's hard to hold up my head

(c) 2015 Frank Green