(no subject)
Prophet
Voice
(He calls himself a prophet, simply self-proclaimed. Rabid fans of no other will claim it as their own.)
(It becomes a daily ritual of crying and scratching to black oblivion as the voice screams to its own olding age.)
(And the dry spell never goes away, haunting in the back of his head, tearing.)
(Smaller stature drags people into awe, fear, and thoughts on intrigue; his method of catching eyes)
(Never away until it’s dead, becoming of a dead voice...)
Dead Vocal
(His chords pulsate, and beat of revenge and slavery.)
(There are scenes of capitalism and absolutism; lambs are dying.)
(Underneath the butterfly of his lips, smirking like a hellhound demon, plotting pitfuls of deaths and murder.)
(It’s sad, because he’s sad. He knows, and it’s not true.)
(The reign of his own inner demons turning before him, against him, and he realizes that eventually... there is no more voice.)
(Post Prophet)
Voice
(He calls himself a prophet, simply self-proclaimed. Rabid fans of no other will claim it as their own.)
(It becomes a daily ritual of crying and scratching to black oblivion as the voice screams to its own olding age.)
(And the dry spell never goes away, haunting in the back of his head, tearing.)
(Smaller stature drags people into awe, fear, and thoughts on intrigue; his method of catching eyes)
(Never away until it’s dead, becoming of a dead voice...)
Dead Vocal
(His chords pulsate, and beat of revenge and slavery.)
(There are scenes of capitalism and absolutism; lambs are dying.)
(Underneath the butterfly of his lips, smirking like a hellhound demon, plotting pitfuls of deaths and murder.)
(It’s sad, because he’s sad. He knows, and it’s not true.)
(The reign of his own inner demons turning before him, against him, and he realizes that eventually... there is no more voice.)
(Post Prophet)