I turn my urge dark
I turn my hate onto you
I turn my anger crazed and sightless
You’re devoid of rescue
I felt it turn dead
Like a corpse behind my eyes
Itches and pressure grow white hot
Empty of empathy
You’re just an image
Another reason to leave
I know what you are
Trust urges me from you
I’ll cut gods' throat
With broken bottles and rage
So it won’t save my soul
I’ll kick it’s lungs in to breathe
Damaged, soft, blue tones
I’ll take what is mine
I ‘ll scratch you for blood
Crimson nails left unwashed
Scents and sounds of machines failing
It’s sharp damage to you
I heard it scream low
An organic scratching sound
Steady pulses of sharp neon
The shadow men take form
You’re just a liar
“Gods” blood on the world
I know what you are
Death will free me from you
Sickly thoughts
Have me down to true questions
At best we’re just disease
Vengeances fuel now
Damaged promises
I’ll avenge this
© 2008 chrome arctic
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/16799/109554 on Monday September 08th, 2008 02:30 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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