Sunday, 8 March 2015

My Sins

O! My love, O! My sweet
I ask thou to slay me
For my sins have hurt thee
Allow my slaughtered body to lie in thy feet

Futile is my existence
I feel like a nonentity
As my unholy deeds
Have bruised not just one but many

I am the reason behind the tears
Which trickle down thine eyes
I am the one whose malice
Has caused this apocalyptic tide

O! My love, O! My sweet
Thy honey smooth skin
Is covered in blisters because of me
I beg thy sacred soul to rupture my grotesque heart!
And wing it in a far off sea     

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