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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1242611
Me talking to gay stupid satan worhipers.
Dirt clogs the coffin - your body,
Thinking of your body - rotting,
In the ground your dungeon lays,
The bones in which the cancer dwelled,
All splayed out - your skull decays,
In the ground your body stays,
How long you lived, it may amaze,
The devil stayed for days and days,
Until he finally did raise,
The hellish hand,
The darkest heart,
The darkest death,
The darkest art,
Your pain ends and the suffering start
We're all a prisoner to our sin,
But it rots you all worse within,
You take our Lords name in vain,
The devils gaining even more fame,
It pains me to see the shape we're in,
The worlds engulfed in all our sin,
The hearts turn black in the strongest men,
Pain and suffering wait within,
You scream "God please make this end!",
But its too late you're too far in,
The meanest part - the meanest end,
You meet your doom in Satans den.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1242611-The-Shape