The Prison of Death

A predator, gnawing at our strings
A butcher, to chop off our wings

In brevity, looming, today or tomorrow
Boundless happiness, in everlasting sorrow

A massacre, of your self-important life
A diseased angel, with an invisible knife

In morbid eternity, we'll sift with infinite night
Human cockroaches, we'll run from the light

A twisted tale, with our egos, burning in hell
Identity vanquished, for fading inscriptions to tell

In conceited laughter, we wish the world to die
To The Prison of Death, in the hate-filled sky.


Poetry