Marriages
Pelt
Worn, the diadem of sufferingOr crown of meaninglessnessIgnites the unending dusk and sets forth the mantle of perversionFrom love, thick with blood it is inherited by the many hands of IWorked tirelessly those folds, lain and drapingTo both stifle and coax the growing numbersWithout eternal soul we are so moved by meansTrampled the pelt to new functionSo from mire make the fur of benedictionTaken upon our coagulate body to form a great beastAll 7 heads and hands, ten tiny fingers plunged into meLest I should ride death reign less and aloneFor father who dies on new year's dayTo shoot the peaceful princeTo put down a horse with legs that are brokenAnd mend a broken fence
From Letras Mania