Human
it is the last corridor
loneliest hours are like this
twisted music stops ringing from the belfry
silence that could break bones
with its weight comes in a
downpour
thunderous words of a confession
spoken in actions
speak for your own sins
one by one, on a table covered in dust
lay them to untimely rest
this place will be your funeral,
rebirth
rising the hell from whence you came,
demons grabbing at your ankles
until they drag you back home.
you carved their sentences in grey
red spilling into dirty snow, dirty
conscience, destruction of everything
in your path to glory, friend and foe
breathing
in the blood-curdling screams like
the fresh air you don’t deserve
the prayers of a people wasted
in the merciless hands of a child
sick, buttercups in their hair
an angel of death,
murderer
savior falling through the cracks
of everything they were a time ago.
it is the end.
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