Lack of sympathy

Awake and stuttering in mindless, fringed confusion
Entombment of an enlightened mind
Nothing to come now but a shallow grave
No hymns will be sang as your blood spills to the earth
Goodbye to glass shattering                                     the face of in-conclusion
Eternally rotting below where no one knows
That the stench of rotting flesh will still loom
Over some dark corner there
Below my feet dwell not far at all
Until we find a substance, a substance to modify the soul

Reviews

[Ruth]

Ohhh...yes! A fav! Striking lines add to the harshness...everything balanced and you carry wisdom through your work love...a tone of death to life and to the emotions, reality! That is why your work hits powerfully xoxo

[Passingdaze]

stench of rotting flesh...sanford and son.