Tell me, how could you paint a picture of a shattered existence,
To one that is blinded by bliss?
Dark days are ahead of us,
The mothers of a new age,
where our saints are now fuelled by lust,
And father time is laying, drugged by mother mercy.
The flames are being fed by the hundreds now,
While the stairway to heaven is crumbling,
What is it like to see the heresy of your idols?
To see them fall into the abyss,
Never to be remembered.
We cannot right the wrong,
When we are deaf to the trumpets being sounded,
What will you say to your children?
When they ask why the gods are being grounded?
This is the end of days,
And so it ends.
Don't listen to what people say because sometimes you just gotta learn to love yourself
- JoinedMay 13, 2017