marta

Her call comes like a presage of a past prejudice

Could she have it all planed out?

The careful soft yet shrieking cold whisper in the night

Before I go to sleep

Swift or perhaps a coincidence

Machine or perhaps a human being

Are you back to soil my temple with those tears?

Are those even real tears?

Don't fool me

Is that your machinery's oil?

Is that the fueling force behind all your evil?

She’s the summoner of the storming nights

Of the slithering knives

There you go again

Showing me that human side

I've learned to hate

What do you have to gain?

Allow me to hate

Please

Allow me to mourn your death