As I rest my weary hand upon this parchment,
I whisper silently a prayer for death.
Maleficks and malevolence have tattered my serenity,
A sordid mesh, threadbare tapestry, and vile humanity remain
Shaking ensues, as nerves retaliate...
My hands...Oh, why does this earthquake not cease?!?
Not fit to spit, doomed to suffer eternal.
Treachery at conception, and heritage of hypocrites
I swim in the brine of swine, and invite plight
Yet fight, undying, this path of dereliction.
I am abhorred by the light and the sacred
I am hated by the ancient un-holy and the dead
Given, of any desire and every wish, a tainted twist
My most passionate desire, emptiness, impossible...
No gift a blessing, no blessing be a gift.
I am too weak to move or to speak,
Cannot cry, cannot lie,
No reason to live, and no way to die.
A morbid construction of chaos perfected
A toss by Fates hand, simply neglected.