Mar 22, 2006 23:14
All this termoil,
blood begins to boil,
the fruit begins to spoil,
aniont my head in oil,
I make my own hell,
tis there that I dwell,
tis there where I fell,
tis here in this cell,
I crush mine enemy,
tis you lying next to me,
tis the darknes that I see,
tis the life that I breath,
I fear simplicity,
I crave complexity,
I brave diversity,
all these perversities,
I am the beggotten,
or have thee forgoten,
your fruit lie rotten,
in a coffin made of cotton,
I am the sin,
the one you hold within,
your life has run thin,
a new chapter begins.
I am the son,
this war has begun,
your soul on the run,
isn't this fun. hehe,
copyrighted poetry.com joshua thibault