This is one of my poems, an old one but i can't help but look back to this poem. It seems like the same thing is happening all over again....
Wandering through this world alone
Dying on the wicked stone
No trace of emotion
Wicked hell is my devotion
The whispers they call unto me
To my dead soul you see
To burn in the unrelenting fire of hell
Hear my plead, And hear my yell
Die alone with my pride
While everyone around my casket snide
I wander without love
The birds chirp words of pity up above
Wandering through this world alone
Not knowing where I'am but the unknown
Dead and decayed as some would see
Walking in this cesspool up to the knee
Useless and hated for all eternity
Sick of all this modernity
Sadistic and depressed inside
Deprived of all my pride
Only to turn to Satan himself
To find the piece missing by myself
Cannot avoid my fate
Only to find the opening of hells gate
Wandering through this world alone
Down into hell to find the devil's throne
Extending his finger toward the abyss of my heart
Getting ready to rip my body apart
This hell i have brought onto myself
My body is turning into a delph
There is no turning back from my sins
This torture feels like a billion pins
Hell is my new home to spend eternity
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night sky 2468
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"The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, it is of imagination."
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