SAO LILDOOP Posted November 19, 2019 Share Posted November 19, 2019 It starts first with the thumping, in the heart an anthem rising and from there free-will compromising. Up and down, plod and drown, one with he, one with she. It continues then by taking root of your mind, of your soul; natures goal, logic in the morgue. Dig your plot, its where you'll rot, but dirt is beautiful and sunlight overrated. It's brighter below. Now you're a mole, digging through coal without a prayer for your soul, yes, you are that thumping in the earth, the progenitor of that ever-rising curse. The blind lead the blind and those with sight bind. The blood of men, women and children, it feeds the earth. Blood and water, a holy resurgence giving way to new birth. Veins to roots and roots to snare, well, is it any different up there? Eye's go blurry and minds do spin, bodies grow weary and necks grow thin; however to be wary, now thats a sin. Collect their spines, collect their heads and place them gently into their beds. Then commences the whispering, a goodbye to history, starting first with the stinging and then with the misery; first with the singing and then with the novelty. Come now, join the row, plod and plow and don't ask how... And it all ends with the entrapment of the tongue. Feel that cold heat on your lung and it will tell you your last words been sung. The gongs been rung, the throng thrung and the battle won and those lying dead? None. Corpses close not their eyes, nor lay down to sleep, nor awaken to eat bread; but unwilfully bob in dread, for hellfire cradles them instead. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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