DeadnessMature

Flies devouring a corpse,

The blood runs hot and wet and sweet,

Waiting for a tourniquet,

That nobody will ever supply,

Because nobody will ever care,

Enough to dirty their hands on the blood,

Of a sinner like me,

Me, the filth of the earth,

Dust gathers on the drying blood,

Dirty, an unpolished ornament,

An abandoned statue,

Live-dying girl,

An angel on a gravestone,

Gently eroded by the weather,

Cursed by the gods,

I fade from the memories of so-called 'friends',

As I drift towards hell,

Heaven is dead,

As I am dead to you,

A loner,

Live alone, die alone, burn alone.

The End

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