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o-meu-pensamento

o-meu-pensamento

Child of the purgatory

Abril 07, 2016

Isis Erzsébeth Báthory

gothic-painting.jpg

All the beauty seems to be gone,

There is no soul content,

There is only sadness abnd misery

 

The smell of death eating the flesh away

You pitty yourself, you're dreary

You caught yourself being a poacher

And you ought to be someone else than you.

 

Spasmodically spirits play with what's left of your mind

You feel like running around and digging your own grave

And yet here you are waiting for decay and corruption

 

Oh your existance is no more than a lame drab

And life is rotting away, feeble little thing

And so you gave birth to a monster

 

 

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