My cocoon has been slashed
I hang from it helpless,
Begging to finish my forced metamorphosis.
My hopes have been dashed,
All the while my attackers accuse me of being selfish.
Leaving my soul, mind, and body listless.
The nectar of my conscious oblivion,
They have become drunk upon it.
The ashes of my decayed decadence,
They bathe in it.
And after the years pass they'll say sorry for at least a million.
The last threads of my internal marionette lay frayed in severance.
Open the tunnel,
Here comes the Trauma train.
Please board platform 185
But only if you'd like to survive.
The desire
To disobey my own fire
Has completely evaporated evanescently.
So now I create obsessively.
I am laying my sword down,
And agreeing to take my rightful place
Beside my Demon of Monsters.
I refused my mortal crown,
All for a familial disgrace.
Pardon me while I exterminate
This raging bitter hate
As I rip the organ off your face.
Perhaps if I extract your eyes from the nonsensical skull,
Don't worry, my knife is never dull-
You'll finally see what it's like at my pace.
 Alucarda Incarnate · Tue Nov 19, 2013 @ 06:45pm · 0 Comments |
