The Chant (from Hell)

If this isn't my darkest most screwed-up piece (which I think it is), then it's close, not that I've ever written anything normal. Yeah, my mom would have a heart-attack.

 

The Chant (from Hell)

 

Dirty little b***h,

Always you are burning

In the pyre of my acid sympathy

 

Where is the river that you run?

Where is that you hide?
The burned-out soil of madness

For it is I that call you there

This is where I want you to die

In a lake of my own hate for you

 

You are my child, living on my will

but still clinging to the other way

You crucify your flesh away;

love the way you hate yourself

You are a b***h made of fragile wax

That weeps down your face like blood

 

What a freak you are, living in a muddy ditch

Your triumphed mental destruction

Is that the way you wish to die?

Will you rot with melancholy as you hide?

 

I am your father before Him

I pierced your mind with my venom

I bound you with my chains of torment

 

When will you realize this?

When will you open your eyes?

When will you stop fighting me?

 

 

--Why do you suffer?

I call you to my side

Why not learn to love my hate?

And leave the light behind--

 

My sun of eternal darkness

Is where you’ll walk with me

The chaos of my murders, never-ending,

And your desire for my inverted trinity

Shall go on without secession

 

Cry for me as I burn your soul

I crush you and sear you open

You morbid creature, turning to stone

And bent against the bleeding wall

The torrential pit of your self-slaughter

Your frail martyrdom of denial

 

You are nothing

You have fallen

Your carcass has been offered to me

Because you are dead

 

I am the angel of your nightmares,

The collector of your rotted bones

My voice nails my corruption inside you

I vomit my blood inside your core

You belong to me. There is no question

 

Curse what cast you at my feet

Deny the cross on your burdened back

Look inside my hatred and accept that you are mine

Reviews

[Fear Corrupts!]

wow. excellent....dark...this poem was creepy. that is a good thing, means you can set a mood.

[Teenage poet]

A lot of fury in this poem. It's a little strange yet I still like it.

[NightDream]

I like the emotion and temperment in this. Its dark and angry and i like how effortlessly it flows (like a real tirate at someone/thing you truely love and dispise.)