|
|
I Feel No Guilt (by Waddle)
|
|
|
Blood flows
From the deepest sunsets
The blood of innocents
Thos taken
Their blood
Thicker than marshes
Longer than streams
Flowing
In our veins
Feel nothing
Malevolent society
Your blood is pure
Because theirs has cleanse yours
But it will never be clean
Thickened by hatred within the purity
It will dry and form crust
Baked in your evil
Turn not then
But fact your death
That is the comfort he will bring unto you.
Feel the clarity of his darkness
And the brightness of his night
But suffer in your silence
In your guilt
The sky bleeds their blood onto you hands
Stained
Pretend it Is dye or beet
But run,
And turn
But only find them reddened more
By the waters you use to cleanse them
Nothing is purer than the blood tainted upon your hands;
Nothing will clean it
And death will only come unto your murky soul
But clean it with evil
He will be socrched by it
A heat intensed
More so than his haven
This is the mark you carry
And now not even death can abolish it
Walk into the firey pit of hell
Never turn back
And giult of an innocent is what you will have
The blood upon your hands
The only sanity
But it will be there
And you will find no hatred for it
But regret
Even if mad
You will find it
Embracing you in your sadness
But none can ease it
Not even the blood of an innocent
|
|
Want to see your poetry in this category?
Send your poem now!
|
