Shasaa

In the darkest of dark This can give you a fright Death comes in packs Just like the bad man's mind sunders Down through the chimney With all his "gifts" for little Timmy Impaled through the heart His blood tastes like wine Bad men are seen to rise In the mid morning dew While the men gather For their next victim With the case of Timmy left unsolved The bad men look to strike another Bad men find their next meal Young little Suzie All energetic and different Hung from the rafters Until her body was gone Her blood red tears Fall to the cement The bad men lick their red teeth Bad men are seen to stalk an alley Looking for

"Do I serve a purpose?" That is what we all ask ourselves at one time or another. We long for the time when we are able to quit and leave all our work behind, in the lonely forgotten past of our life. That is when we serve our purpose, after our life, even after our death, in our peaceful graves, six feet under. Our death is a gateway, a gateway to purpose. "How do I know my purpose?" You are your own purpose, when you die your memories reside in others that knew you. You will never be forgotten. What is it that you did? Did you inspire, or inspire fear? That is how you served. That is the truth, not horrible but not great. Bu

Long ago there were people, these people had everything;          riches,               power,                    glory, but they were still imperfect. They were the Ancients. The Ancients ruled all, that was until their fall. If you dared defy them, they wished to see your brain stem. Murderous pigs, stuck at their palace eating figs, death drenching their walls, screams echoing their halls. The rebel group Caedes revolt, you see the flash of a lightning bolt light the sky of this blood filled night, during that bloody fight. Chests impaled, heads lobbed, bodies cleaved, the Caedes heaved. The rich and weak versus the

That is where I wish to be, where it is only me. Me and myself, just a decoration on the shelf. This shelf of life is just you, where the man sits on his throne to watch what you do. On that shelf you are all alone, no family, no friends, no tone to the walls that confine you on three sides. You just watch those tides, those tides inside that collide and form hell. But now, listen here, and let me tell. Inside those dark depths, demons lurk, inside that lonely Turk, taken by his own demons, stripped of all life. No one ever had enough strife to survive, in this overdived place where you are to be deprived. In this place is w

We are the Tears, We are all that is, my dears. We are the Blood, The spring rain and floods. We are the Blood Red Tears. We are your every fear. Do not run for we are the Tears that roll down your face, the clear Tears that follow your every move. We have to prove! Failure to launch is fake, It is failure for man's sake. Do not fear your rulers, we are just like you! it just let's us see the few who follow like the loyal mice you are! It's like going over par and losing it all because of that last stroke. The mice will eat from your corpse, all they need is a little poke. We see who you are, you little wretch! Now we call

"What the hell is going on?" That is what we all ask the man, the man who locks our cage. The cage that keeps us in line, in a line straight to death. Rebirth, but I want to live life, not watch it as it passes by the window. "Why are we created to die?" To be born, to live, to be reborn. That is the way the earth works, even planets are reborn! Why are we, you ask? To die and feed the hungry with blood sweat and tears, sweetness. "Why do we live to be reborn?" Rebirth makes us whole, yet not. Without it, we would never be. The names of the past become the present, as we become one again. Because without the names of the pa

I see the fire. The fire of the death that surrounds me, that I am. The blacks smoke rises to announce to everyone, the witch is dead. I watch her screams, I watch her flesh burn, her bones shining like death itself. I weep for her, I weep for all those before her. I call out, "goodbye Mum!"     I am shoved, brutes with giant arms spitting on me as they push me toward the next pile of wood and oil. I feel nothing, nothing that I am filled with, they take it away and fill it with the pain of loss. The child they all fear, me, the deathdealer. Why me? I have done nothing wrong! I was only born!     I search the back of my mind, I find a lit

As I sit here waiting for lies, My last love all but dies. Her never stopping words, Make me insane like my mind is in fords. My own wife she is, I wish not, A peasents daughter, born in a cot. Unfit she is for a king like me, I am after all, the king of thee. My one true sneek, you are, Me and you, sitting under par. A love I cannot have, a wish I can't gain, Not without sacrifice or pain. A life all of my own, Sitting on this ever demonic throne. A wish to have thee, forever, The ends of my life I want to sever. I cannot love without the pain, My terrible seed inside the rain. My song will be sung until the end, My honor