- cifra
His landscape
Has been scorned with death
Once a city
Now laid to ash
A decaying father
Has left his bastard son
With his addcitions at his side
Chased away,
Consumed from his fixations,
This mans life went down in flames
Chased-away-what he's-created
His-hunger-grows
There is no
End to
This life
Of fixations
Dear father,
Ill be waiting
I saved you a seat in hell
He remains
A walking corpse
As his legs will move
Forward
For his addictions
Itch at his throat
Only to crave
More of
The blood
He seeks
For this man only thirsts for blood
The blood of his child
He stands
Knee deep
In the blood of his bastard son
