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A short Ballad of Pain

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What then is there left over of love
Deceived and broken, filled with spite
The pain is so thoughtlessly shoved
Into you melancholy mind without a thought of what is right
Body is trembling with the life of existence
Breaking in every direction
Creaking into the thoughtless essence
Of all the pained lesions
Destroying all but what is not
Creating what never should have been
To break you soul people have sought
But when they see your bend
They fall into a heap on the ground
Of destruction of all
But what is not is carried out by our blood lusting hounds
With all the pain now being suffered, the arms against you fall




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