A Dung Lit World
I've stolen your fate as a trophy I own
Its blood dripping another stain on my throne
To me you are nothing but something to kill
To beg for a reason my hate I fulfill
The pain I'll inflict with cold vibrant glee
Comes without cost to my conscience for me
This dung lit world where rage finds its thirst
A shadowy figure to every life I curse
In hell I find comfort, its filth and stench I know
To rip away each vein from your heart, before I go
Your gurgling cauldron of breath I will steal
To fill my chalice with pain, to you I'll reveal
This need to release such a terrible scorn
It flows so cold, my hatred for ever being born
1/7/17 contest You Say You want a Revolution
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2017
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