Dead Will Be The King
Why believe the heart torn, which is the only thief - Why not put me to death, a feast with the dead - Finally for my dark soul, the pressure of pleasure to a release - When you are unhappy, a cross of grief - I am happy, when my nose bleeds, nails taste like my tongue, i vomit, just to breathe - The fly fed by my meat of flesh, she reaps, i cry, in defeat - I will obey the wind, the flow off her rotten wings - I will swell, if she stings - I shall be her joker, her jack, her queen - If she wears the crown and i bow to a box, dead will be the king.
poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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