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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1940269
A rather cryptic poem.
Suckling the teat of condemnation
Offering the crutch of media-masturbation
I hold my hand to my unholy patron
The blade, the knife, the butterfly of lust
It wheezes, it needs to feel of blood tainted rust
It seeps it slides within the wrist
Amongst the flesh it oozes to persist
Soon the lights fade to gray
And you fail to see the light of day
As you fade you fall it catches you lightly
Its wings flutter ever so politely
Its tiny feet clawed and pointed
Its needs its desire has been anointed
You trust in its words and nothing more
Everything you thought was real is out the door
The lies you've been told have turned gray and dead
You vomit out the bullshit, the audacity you've been fed
On the ground you squirm in blood covered agony
Another pointless wasteful tragedy
You prove to the world you're worthless and disgusting
As your blade lays in the blood it begins rusting
Though you take it up and you strike it down
A pain more endured sensual than the Christ lords thorn crown
You feel the feelings rush and sore
You beg to feel nothing no more
You lay on the ground thriving in pain
Never to live, never to breath again
Though you're compelled to stand by up
Continue to live in a world so corrupt
Though you're comforted by the truth
Of a Genocidic Butterfly
It shares your lust,
Your pleasure in seeing
That everyone and everything will soon die
The urge and the need to want to kill
But nothing more pleasurable than a thought filled thrill
You won't let go, you never will
Until you strike again accompanied by pill
To fall down to the floor, foaming out the mouth
That's whenever you go down below, 6 feet down south
You see my mind is filled with murderous thoughts and hate
Nothing more I desire is the end of the world, of which I anticipate
I desire the end to come so quick
So eager for it to end, to shut out into dark
No life, no-one, no supposed spark.

Let it end.
Let it crash
Let it end.
Let it crash.
Let everything die.
And for once.
I will be happy.
With me and my genocidic butterfly.
I will for once feel the emotion
"Happy."

-EmotionallyTorn
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