deepundergroundpoetry.com
never more
rake you razor blade need into my soul
your desire to hurt burns me to the core
wretched pain let me breathe
this hurt within me is pure treachery
i seek a dark rider to right this for me
dead of night
pale of skin
crimson lips speak this curse
I will hunt your sleep
you tormented my sacred thoughts
a plague upon you then
I will sate myself on your sorrow
never more the wiser
your pain, my pleasure my dearest
an occult malady should do it
when the moon is full you shall see my faces
all of them chanting in unison
I will break your resolve
and cause you to wither
ripened hate burns my tongue with the telling
riders, rape the night
my spirit is willing
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