literature

Death and the iron cross

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Literature Text

Quickly it ravages, screaming, gushing hate
Smoothly it wraps its cool fingers around me
It is the pain growing in my mind
Like a disease, conquering my sanity
The stale air dances a fatal tango in my lungs
Sliding smoothly, so surely, so scorching hot
The touch comes upon me
Quickly it ravages, screaming, gushing hate
My eyes sending forth an army of blood
Marching towards the buzz of the bees
It whispers to me “god isssss dead, and sssssoon you too”
The cool breath caressing my burning skin
Eyes made of fire, and words full of poison
It reaches forth again, this time into me
Its lungs are like hissing snakes
Its hands are razorblades, cutting my soul
Smothering me with its sickliness, our eyes lock
And there I see my final sight
A crucifix made out of splintering iron
A man called ? holding his burning gun
Looking up he laughs at me, his eyes are removed
Blood clots beneath his crown
Then his final words storm towards me…the final flood
I will weed out the fakes, with bloody rakes.
He turned his blazing gun unto himself
The pain ceased, it had finally gone
Blackness, blackness is now all that’s drawn
A poem, dark in nature.
© 2003 - 2024 sinster
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