A Darkened Existence

Our world, it lives in a black shroud,

Our hearts, haemorrhage their godly cloud,

Our souls, dyed black in eternity,

Our lives, forever seek serenity.

Our existence, like a virgin's cunt,

Is magnified through disposable pleasure,

Our meaning, like a broken penis,

Is forevermore divergent.

Our hope, like Cleopatra's breasts,

Excites the snake, spraying poison far and wide,

Our ideas, like a priest's bead,

Broken and unchained, are sowed on unfertile ground.

We yearn for the presence of light,

Praying for the coming of the sun,

Decomposing in the nature of the human race,

Humanity occupies its graves.

The sun hides behind it's almighty shroud,

Afraid of what we've become,

Afraid to show it's face, a burnt pride,

It walks alone, casting shadows like an dishonest bride.

Like the serpents of hell,

We crawl across the land,

Destroying all we see not by touch,

But by living every day.

The darkness refuses to yield,

To lie where the sun comes to die,

The darkness is our existential field,

To live, while our morals cry.

The darkness is our friend, foe and family,

The darkness is our forevermore,

The raven that comes a-tapping silently mulls,

Its death song, on our whitened skulls.