| Mythos |
[Aug. 22nd, 2006|04:03 pm] |
I am the wolf that swallows the sun,
I am the god with the poisoned eye,
Niether Ragnarok nor Apocalypse stops me,
Twisting and writhing from pain while hating thousands from a single spot,
I am the king of the dead and the fields of Elysse,
Hated and scorned but the most powerful of all,
Making this bleak world my domain,
I am the one with the Dark Gift,
Given to me by all the Ancients,
Personified by Pan and told about in Grimm
Superficially I'm faithless desire and broken hope,
Mere flesh and bone ere your eyes to judge,
Skin deep and no more,
This facade falls into place and I'm everyone else,
Wanting to kill myself like everyone else nowadays,
But not brave enough to do so like a scarce few souls,
When you sliced your flesh it used to mean something,
Now it's reduced to a fad,
Meaningless waste of human emotion,
Because were all so lonely and cold
I can sense the cold,
Permeating throughout my entire body,
All the way, even to my fingertips,
It turns my heart to ice,
And it freezes my bones until they shatter,
My dreams are landscapes of frost,
Also my friends cant come near me lest they freeze to ,
Dark ice forms my tears,
Only in a pool of iniquity do I feel warmth,
With a love as dark, as cold, and as sinful as myself
For years I've had a hunger,
Searching for the answer to a painful equation,
Lust is my vice and sin is my discovered cure.
But its a temporary fix like so many in the world,
My stomach yearns for me, it growls with teeth,
I try to find meaning in spirituality,
But the gods are quarrelsome and unyielding,
Atheism is no better with it's false pride,
She is my only cure, my single balm,
Relieving some of my pain |
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