lasting oblivion shines no forgiving light upon the faithful
those rested upon bended, calloused knees
pleading to a false prophet behind a bloodstained altar
the faithless find solace in a freed and enlightened mind
however slaves to their own disillusion
the colaboration of shame love hate and beauty can be found
in broken bones or a garden of flowers
everything we are is nothing in the end
supplicating towards a broken idol
will allow you no favor in the eyes of nihility
the broken beauty lies upon the cold porcelain floor
a life so loathed for no other reason than spite
lay cracked, a waste
a selfish sacrifice to spit in the face
of the ridiculous agglomeration
and in almost a reprisal,
another, falls upon those calloused knees once again
pouring a scarred heart upon the shrine
fit not for savior saint nor matyr