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Broken Skin
Author: Sax

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Burning Pain Criss cross my arm,
I must go clean these brushes of my blood.

How is this body such a frail but crittical spiritual vessel?
Can this vessel bleed an ocean for me?

Is this my Angel of life or is it my Angel of self destruction?
A rain of life force all around,
soaking all on the ground,
the rain brought by the cutting of Angelic throats.

Now as a welcomed darkness falls,
the night shall unfold it's ebon wings,
it's purpose to wrap the world in it's dark and eternal embrace.

All I can see is the blood on my hands,
all I can feel is the tears on my face.

All my hate will not be bound by your constant preaching.

I know I'm gona do this again,
I know I'm gona do this again,
despite the pain,
despite it's meaning,
I'm gona do this all again.
God.... This is so exhilerating.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Mental () -- Saturday, July 27 2002, 02:58 am

Broken Skin

it brings back memories of
that moment the dark ones i like to seek.
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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