Morbid

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I have come to see the death on the lands,
but not even caring for it lessens the strands.
I’ve watched, I’ve killed, beaten and torn,
watched the blood spill to put out the morn.
I will tear out your dreams, and take them for use,
and unlock your nightmares, to set them all loose.
I will draw on myself, the shiny thin silver,
and see the blood drip without a slight shiver.
Carving into myself the ultimate design,
and play with myself without tears of crying.
Endless despair is forever more spilling,
i keep the gin straight, point aim and killing.
The smells of rancid, putrid hate,
running its course and bound by all fate.
The God’s themselves will step aside,
in fear of the powerful, ultimate pride.
I stand above all, but always watch from below,
the fury and wrath that God’s have bestowed.
Bestowed upon us is the hate that they have,
the corpses, the graves were all planned as they laugh.
The killing of all, innocent and young,
is an unnatural part, as they bite down on their tongues.
The ground is splitting, and the sky is falling,
the fire’s growing and the death is stalling.
Everyone will never come to realise,
the death and the hate that has us all paralyzed.
I suck on this knife of life’s end and its start,
aself-suicide, shut down and restart.
3…2…1…the end will come at last,
the future will come and stay in the past.
It’s time to clean, organize the mess,
one last chance is given to one and the rest.
Better late than never, is the saying that goes around,
but ‘late’ is in the past, while we’re voiceless with no sound.
Marionette, I control and manipulate you all,
yhere’s an end to this endless unstopingly fall.
Questioning fate is what we’re all meant to do,
but questions unanswered are what are left for you.
There’s an end to a start, and a start to an end,
acomplete and vicious cycle that is a constant trend.
It’s time to pick up the pieces of me,
to start it all over 1…2…3.

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© Cotie Guzman March 10, 2006