Compass

Close the open wound
Hate seeps through
Poisoning the wheel
Turning lovers continuously
Without rest
Feet buried in the ground
Hands of rotting flesh
Grasp swollen ankles
Pulling ever deeper
To their embrace
Filled with the longing
For death they've already
Died to receive at last
The coffin is not my bed
But instead the moon
Shining with a melancholy smile
Inside the chest
Filled with toxic pus
Deranged body being pulled
In all directions
By their deceased hands
And by his incessant words
That not even my screams
Can block out
The wheel turns
Only by the weakening strength
Of the blood we are cursed
To rely so lovingly on
I want to escape
From the endless hell
We all adore because
That is what he tells
Us to do





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