Death By Desolation

March 2, 2018
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Three silent demons 

With mouths sewn shut

Whose glinting eyes tell post traumatic tales

In a strange polygamy

Scream a Siren's song 

Under our shared featherbed

Comprised of broken sentiments

Through distorted voice-boxes

That somehow still sing so clear

Singing worry about everything 

Nothing is alright 


Resurrect in the mourning 

Which is reminiscent 

Of the quaint, tainted night


Think of nothing and everything 

Nothing is alright

And just to further disturb you

To make you feel sick 

You will enjoy this death by desolation

Every single twisted bit

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