Making The World My Tomb

Uniting with the soil
Clasping the earth and its endless mould
Preserving its soft mire
Underneath heavy lids

Tired by the weight, of the world
Blinded by its cruelty
A pain so superfluously vivid
Yet in its realization
I find peace

And linger in my tomb
Where none holds sway
But the ones that feed
With much excitement

My glistening children
Frantic with gluttony
With them I’ll soon have wings
And together we will grow
Out of the earth
Lowering up like an angel of death
Cadaveric and reeking
In alt its putrescent glory

And with the hot summer's night
Thus i swarm towards the sky
Drifting in the moist breeze
Sweeping the earth
Like autumn leaves

A black horde carries my name
Nourishing on death
And drinking decease
But before long
The coup will he of life's irony

Suffering a thousand deaths anew
I’ll be raining silent and cold
Out of the heavens
Making the world ray grave

Aeons have passed
The cycle remains eternal

Kills me harder
Hurts me longer
Than death ever could