No prayer for the damned
Religion has fled my body,
My heart beats although it's dead-
All night i reconstruct her rosary,
No prayer is in my soul-
A token of my one true love,now gone..
No prayer is in my heart-
An endless chain of thoughts spanning throughout and all,
No prayer is in my throat-
Restrung, restored, but not to be returned,
No prayer is in my mouth-
What has been grieved is gone, but not forgotten,
No prayer upon my lips-
All night I sat and reconstructed her rosary,
No prayer is in my soul-
As she lays dead, I look out into the darkness,
I repeat to myself there can be no prayers for the damned-
-necro
Mask
There you are again,
Hiding behind your mask-
Always putting on a display,
Deceiving people including your family-
The front reflects what you should be,
The back shows your problems-
Lying constantly to yourself,
Shielding yourself from pain and sorrow-
People hold you highly,
If they really knew, they would run-
Outside you are fine,
Inside your soul tormented-
To the world you are perfect,
In reality you are a venomous serpent-
One day you will see,
One day it will all end.
In the core of the whirlpool,
Kraken rising
Flames of green and yellow
Burn new pathways
For those who walk on coals,
Those with scarred feet.
Under the pier
The water runs cold,
Slapping and licking the pylons
With soft sadistic kisses.
On the surface,
Air bubbles surfacing,
Punctured,
Reborn,
Punctured again
Akin to the hearts of those who suffer
Under the skin
Rivers gone dry
Passions burned out,
Flames to embers
To sparks,
To ashes.
In the eye of the hurricane
Wandering through the chaos
Those with closed eyes.
Those with scarred souls
Eddying,
In the core of the whirlpool
-Necro
A bit of a surreal piece
Lady nevermore
High on windswept moorland,
bathed in a sinister, unforgiving winter
She stands alone against the gale
Clad in black cape and white ruffled gloves
A teardrop-shaped hat of black roses
covers her hair.
From the valley below
her figure appears ghostly.
Her skin, so pale
stands in relief against the gloomy landscape
One can just make out her cries.
At a distance they are merely a whimper.
I approach
A bolt of thunder
She is gone
I love her
-Necro
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