Something is holding me down.
|
It makes its way through my arms,
|
and through these fatigued worn fingers in fury fevered lashings of claw.
|
I somehow manage to gain the strength it takes to emit its evils onto the page.
|
Blood-soaked desperate one sided attempts into the chill of all words.
|
Let the sloth be told of horrid torment,
|
to watch him plagued in through for all of our years.
|
In every time, a star of hope is shining its regards as a sparkle of vain mockery,
|
in these pained attempts of self alleviation.
|
To convert from the monster.
|
|
-----------------
|
Terminal Deity
|
| Cave-In |
