Here I stand, all alone,
My little life, whipstitch sown.
Scars clear, shining alight,
What is the point, of continuing this fight?
Tattered lives, sown as one,
A cruel gods, humourless fun.
Made of others, not really complete,
I live my life, off corrupted deceit.
Eyes crooked, seeing only dark,
Upon the world, I’m a tainted mark.
Hands broken, but they're not mine,
I am the devils calling sign.
Skin of two colours, shunned by all,
Not even angels, to slow my fall.
So here I stand, all alone,
My little life, whipstitch sown.
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Comments
--
~arastoph
The Reaper is always there, Right on your back, His sharpened sythe ready, Waiting to attack.....
--
Proud Miscreant of #TheDungeon
To bring about the end, you first have to start at the beginning
--
"A bird may love a fish, segnore...but where would they live?"
"Then I shall have to make you wings."
>^..^<
--
Proud Miscreant of #TheDungeon
To bring about the end, you first have to start at the beginning
--
"A bird may love a fish, segnore...but where would they live?"
"Then I shall have to make you wings."
>^..^<
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