Thine own sweet torment
A state in which the souls of those who have died in grace must expiate their sins.
Welcome to Purgatory
color me with your black decay
kiss my rotting corpse away
my broken skin was torn again
giving up on trying to be loved
my flowers are crumbling in your sunshine
and i slit my throat every fucking time
the thorns breathe
i'm bleeding
i let this freely take me
this must be the moment you've picked to mutilate me
dreaming of fields where babies eat razors
screaming in rooms where the dead commit murder
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when you come back again
will you bring me something from the end
i heard you screaming that the end is near
but i just got comfortable here
the blood is drying on the walls
in the house where the insane are walking the halls
the little girls sleep while the dead rapist crawls
they're breaking the bones of the white baby dolls
plasic flowers cannot sedate my apathy
red roses smother hate and plaster me
send me flowers of white razor flesh
and i'll imitate sounds of your lavender death
and those porcelain babies can rot with the rest
poetry by xAq'
July 17, 2003 9:21 pm xoxoxoxox |
................ Evanscence Even in Death ................
