2.7.19

Your soup of lies,
Your fat crust of secrecy,
Your thick sauce of brazen ego
All pouring into my guts with the smashing force
Of a virus
Here I am, a dead bloated body on a bed,
A bed of rigid acceptance, a sex doll of a bed, a mock comfort bed
Of sweet death
I hate you to pieces, intruder
I spit on your vehemence,
I spit, I spit, I spit

Няма коментари: