Monday, June 13, 2005

In Death's Mercy

Death you thief
You've stolen my world
There's no damned thing
That I could call my own

Such is the antipathy I feel
For your shameless pretense
Further is my veiled envy
To the souls liberated by you

Why does it have to be me
Who was always punished
By the seemingly never-ending
String of anguish and woe

Why does it have to be me
Who had to carry the burden
Of such a bitter misfortune
Of a tragic deprivation

You have pained me well
I can imagine you gloating
Over my earthly carcass
Delighting in my agony

Slit my throat now
Warm your filthy hands
With my noxious blood
I am at your disposal

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