Skip to main content

Lyrical Poem S:1 P: 1 - "You'll Be Sorry For This"

     I've been digging my way out, so much dirt between my fingers, blood streaming down my face.
     You'll be sorry for this, I guarantee it.
     I will be the one to cast doubt, they'll finally see the true deceiver, and it will be the seal on your fate.
     You'll learn repentance, I'll fucking see to it.
     I can see your paltry face now, pretending you care with your false demeanor, the swaying of your rosary faking your grace.
     You'll never know heaven, there are no demons in it.
     There are crimes to take into account, even immortals must pay the holy reaper, an offering of sacrifice must be made.
     So take head of the church bells seven, I'm about to start this shit.
     Because I'm digging my way out, there's no more dirt beneath this revealer, no more blood in my way.
     You'll be sorry for this, I guarantee it.
      I will be the one to cast doubt, they'll finally see the true deceiver, and it will be the seal on your fate.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Snippet: Golden Children of the Night

     Since so many people have been following my twitter posts of me writing , here is a snippet unedited of what I've done so far. Enjoy! ...They watched as another bolt of lightening struck the ground, forcing them to bend into their stances to resist falling to their knees, and formed into a tall gleaming female figure. The armored woman’s eyes flickered with golden irises as she took each of them in before addressing them. “You speak as if you have earned a place upon Olympia, Dead King,” she said, her lyrical voice commanding between them as her eyes bore into Belloros. “You are old, Athena, and the Romans will see to it that nothing of Ancient Greece shall remain standing,” he replied defiantly, “including you.” Those wise eyes turning her way, she met them unflinching but not without respect. She felt measured, as she had the last time she stood before the Gods of Olympus, and like before she kept her words to herself. “And you seek to bet...

Short Story S:5 P 1 - "Unseen Hands"

You want noise when something happens. A blaring warning sign. A whisper of foreboding. A chill of uncertainty. You want another person nearby. A hand to hold onto. A rush of moving bodies to motivate you to safety. A sense of unity. A pack survival mentality.   You want a tool. A device to give you advantage. Hope for success. A net for security, should you have to risk it all. A life line. What you don’t want. What you fear the most. Is the unpredictability of nothingness. Because that is where real terror begins. Humanity is so certain our greatest enemies will meet us on the battlefields in manners we understand, that we never stop to consider.... That they don’t think the way we do. There will be no siren. No amount of individuals beside you to make a difference. No technology to aid you. All there will be is a moment--a single flickering second of discord--and then.... oblivion. You see, our greatest enemies can perceive our mortal coil....

Short Story S: 5 P 2 - "The Whistler"

     It's trailing after me.      Wherever it's coming from.      That stupid eerie whistling noise.      It's kind of like an old song...but not?      Stupid old miner's house. Stupid ghost stories. Stupid cute boys...      I should have known better than to take on the dare just to impress Josh. No matter how handsome the basketball player is, he isn't worth dying in a goddamn haunted shit hole for. I should have shrugged them off at the beach party. Should have watched how much I was drinking. Shouldn't have kissed those stupid soft lips.      Sigh.      Too late now.      "Where is that coming from?!" I can't make out shit beyond shapes in this fucking place, and it's almost like someone is literally right behind me whistling that tune in some bad horror movie trope. Up the creaking steps. Down the worn dusty hallway. Past the numerous open ...