April 25, 2011
Nor are they home in the head we call a skull,
In one ear and out the other,
The eyes taking in things that which is lost and needed to survive,
To sound the bells of saving lost souls,
What for not is that upon which is lost in the underworld,
Gone forever in whole heart,
Upon brow in hopes that one day return,
Guess upon my back as sweat drops like rain when one is drenched,
Gone is the wind, in which we lose thought,
Hope may never return,
Black days are back again,
Beaten black and blue,
With stick in hand we carry it,
Beating anything to a pulp,
Bloody marry they will call,
And we cry happily for the deed is done,
Bring down the wrath of those chosen, for which I may kill again,
Given the time or the resources,
Welcome to thy world of demise as I bring you into it,
Praise you will not receive for i take it all back with a simple word,
Back i say which has let lost the animal in which i am,
Gone be thy voice,


My deed done...

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