(no subject)
this was written by a friend of mine a coupl of months ago he isent much for ppl giving him credet on the good stuff he writes so im doing this for gothic yeti here kevin i still like ur work or i wouldent have saved it !!!
Open pastures in a forgotten place, in a forgotten realm,
Steadily I roam.
Steadily I creep, steadily I weep, but finding only bone.
And no ones home.
Sporadically screaming, Haunted by a reality of sin,
Clawed till bleeding, dying in this ravenous tomb.
Longing for the touch of human skin,
But no ones home.
Blood lust in the back of my throat burning, itching,
Scantily clad victims running blood off into my eager grin.
Wishing for the joy, the hunger, in leaving blood dripping,
Now searching, endlessly wandering, driven by the madness within.
Sweet dreams endowed upon the willing soul of my other half
Pain, torture, a disaster-piece of a sheltered life.
Lost in a bucket of blood, hanging from the front door
Not a cry not a scream, not a sweating, wake up panting dream,
Not a wail of pain comes from the lips so dry of those who wronged me.
Fellowships forgotten in the hunger crazed reality of what’s been my fraudulent scheme.
What’s been done was never meant to be
copy right 2004 gothic yeti
Open pastures in a forgotten place, in a forgotten realm,
Steadily I roam.
Steadily I creep, steadily I weep, but finding only bone.
And no ones home.
Sporadically screaming, Haunted by a reality of sin,
Clawed till bleeding, dying in this ravenous tomb.
Longing for the touch of human skin,
But no ones home.
Blood lust in the back of my throat burning, itching,
Scantily clad victims running blood off into my eager grin.
Wishing for the joy, the hunger, in leaving blood dripping,
Now searching, endlessly wandering, driven by the madness within.
Sweet dreams endowed upon the willing soul of my other half
Pain, torture, a disaster-piece of a sheltered life.
Lost in a bucket of blood, hanging from the front door
Not a cry not a scream, not a sweating, wake up panting dream,
Not a wail of pain comes from the lips so dry of those who wronged me.
Fellowships forgotten in the hunger crazed reality of what’s been my fraudulent scheme.
What’s been done was never meant to be
copy right 2004 gothic yeti