Sound

My immortality is edged on the abyss,

Abyss of rot and rut and all detained.

I am, in terms your mind may duly write off,

The essence and concept of sound- shall it be explained?

The beat on an unprepared soldier's eardrum

Or the curse throughout the air at Berlin's bleed;

I mean not pain, but associate with battle,

Death or at the least, a misfortunate deed.

I've no choice but surround immoral people,

But be two places once and follow the good.

The good are who idealize my manner;

They say I do act righteously, not that they should.

I watch with perfect and complete contempt

As you applaud or suffer, cheer or cry.

Your sins fall unto me and allow them,

I shout a piercing screech to pass them by.

I cannot end, tis my forever duty

To be that supplying an audible mayday.

I surely am monster in your closet

You must fear my might as you know only what I say.