His red sin
That flows, that haunts
Drips from my shaking hands
These hallowed fingertips
That weep crimson rivers
Into the brimming scarlet oceans
Pooled around him
Evil incarnate,
Dark and lecherous,
You made me do it.
Sly and twisted
Your words drove me to
the brink
The edge
The sharpened tip
My sanity
Gone
And with it?
Your life
Dark and lecherous
Now bathed in sin
Stew in it
Rot in it
I will not care
I will not!
I will not care;
I will laugh
Because the courts have told me
We both belong in hell
When my only crime was to send you there first.
YOU ARE READING
A Nightmare's Anthology
PoetryThe brainchild of a dark winter's night. My darkest thoughts on death and morality recovered, compiled and translated into verse. Somewhat grim, infinitely deep and plenty of meaningful symbolism.
