deepundergroundpoetry.com
cold chills
to the end i stumble, upon the roads of destiny,paved in the blood squeezed from the losers that have stumbled before.
born to fail in a world built for failure,upon the horse of mockerey i ride,to a home built of deciet,bricked by a hated mason.
walls crumbled from the treachery born within, i curl to fetus and hope to die,in this tomb of shame i wear so well,in this pit of darkness,i suffer so well.
no hope lives to breathe life here in the shadow of pulsating dread,alive screams all who enter,here you enter to embrace the cold shape of death.
suffering is worn like the prom dress of a hated whore who wins by losing all that is good,beating wings of a devil that can be heard whispering thoughts of sickly love,in the ears of lost souls already dead in the eyes of a frost bitten world glistening in the sun of cold desperate day.
born to fail in a world built for failure,upon the horse of mockerey i ride,to a home built of deciet,bricked by a hated mason.
walls crumbled from the treachery born within, i curl to fetus and hope to die,in this tomb of shame i wear so well,in this pit of darkness,i suffer so well.
no hope lives to breathe life here in the shadow of pulsating dread,alive screams all who enter,here you enter to embrace the cold shape of death.
suffering is worn like the prom dress of a hated whore who wins by losing all that is good,beating wings of a devil that can be heard whispering thoughts of sickly love,in the ears of lost souls already dead in the eyes of a frost bitten world glistening in the sun of cold desperate day.
Published 15th Dec 2011
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