I can feel myself changing
Like the very earth thats shaking beneath me
My souls falling the hells of fire bequeth me
Drowning on flames that flicker off my toungue in artistic prose
Just another way for my mind to decompose
These brown eyes often take the shade of roses
Popping blood vessels to stress emotions
The dark holds so strong pupils dilate to the corona
Beep like a machine stuck in a coma
Living, breathing cant direct a path for my wrath without destruction
Walking volcano never knowing when will be the next eruption
Or who will be the next consumption
Of the feelings that rip holes in the frame that holds me.
The one to showcase the way the devil takes control and how his lessons unfold into a being of greed to discieve all those that try to interviene. Because the skeletons of the fallen are the stairs to those who rise. I hope Im no longer alive to watch my own demise.