Cradle of Suicide
Hollow words flow through me,
violent trauma consumes my sorrowed youth.
Flames lay waste to the sanctuary that I had found,
my mind needs an overhaul.
Fumes from the gasoline take me to a plastic heaven,
igniting the pyre of lies.
Cradle of suicide holds me with compassion,
cradle of suicide embraces my searing darkness.
Demons breathe decaying will into my soul.
Blood splattering the walls,
they tell a story from a horrifying age.
Shadows sway these cold steel life forms of society,
she loved me from birth.
She hated me from her mirrored denial.
Death comes to me at the hour of three.
Angels fall slain to the blade,
that I’ve placed into my amethyst heart.
Cradle of suicide holds me with compassion,
cradle of suicide embraces my searing darkness.
In winter’s early morning,
I lay cold on the cathedral floor.
God has left me for dead,
no one can see the agony I had lived through.
This world hung itself on the onyx gallows,
saviors disappear once the stone has been thrown.
Strung up on the cross like a puppet,
my desire stains the nails.
On the hour of three I die in vanity for this world
