You like it when I obey
When I don't ask questions
Or just question you.
You hate me as I am
But you love to make me feel
Nothing but pain and to suffer.
You yell at me
Your spit flying into my face
But I dare not flinch
Or suffer the wrath of a women's scorn.
You are a witch
Who is also a puppeteer
Pulling and tugging at my stings
Even as my spine snaps
As blood trinkles from my wrists
As you drag my soul across the rug
Burning me as your the roast master
My mistress in living and in death.
You get a kick out of my soul crying
Out to the heaven's
When I belong to the devil himself
With God turning his back on humanity
For we have disgraced his very presence
With our filth
Our dirt and gritty souls claiming peace
And all the while you continue to pull the strings
Sweat appearing under thy brow
'Til finally I fall dead
Straight into your arms
For you are the grim reaper
You are death
You are Keres herself
And only gain peace
From the death and distruction of others
When they leave this world without
Such a graceful thing as peace.
It is gone,
Having left by the side of God
Whom has condemned this world
To burn in anguish
And freeze in bitterness.
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