Use me,
As a grave.
Bury in me,
Your ugly desires,
Your nightmares,
Your sins.
For all that matters,
Because I am,
But decaying flesh,
Made from lies,
Spun with Divine words.
YOU ARE READING
Scourge: A Poetry Collection
Poetry"I have Scourged your soul, While you drew on me, So intricately. All I can ask for, Is forgiveness, Which I don't deserve, Anymore." Scourge: A poetry Collection
