One day I'll die and I'll be underground
Farther and father, I'll travel down
Into the burrows and into the depths
Hotter and hotter the closer I get.
Descending, repenting until I stop
Hitting the bottom, a great floor of rock
The stones, how they'll burn, that's how it begins
The rest of my death will be torment for sins.
An eye for a lie, my tongue heresy
My limbs and my flesh will be torn terribly
My bones will be ripped from my muscles and skin
A boil and bruise for each-every sin.
My blood will be drained in the fiery lake
My head be cut-off and put onto a stake
And after all this, in my second death
I'll still feel each cut and be very alive.
Oh yes, when I die I'll feel nothing but pain
But even in Hell, life's deadly refrain
I'll be content among all the strife
For being in Hell means I truly lived life.
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Poetry Sucks: a poetry collection
PuisiA collection of poems written by a dingus who doesn't know how to write poetry. All of these are public domain so you can use 'em in your TikToks or on your MySpace pages. This mainly consists of: -Serious poetry -Vent poetry and, most importantly ...
