Plants bloom upon rotting corpses

Buried in the soil.

The sun is similar

To a yellow boil,

And in horror I recoil.


Underneath the surface all is death

And decay.

I watch the devil play

With humanity

And have his way

With us day after day.


The roses are drunk on blood

Which drenches the soil.

In the guise of beauty and love

Spring unfurls its foulness

And awakens to apocalypse.