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Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Necropolis

These pictures look fake,
As much as the smiles you make,
And what would you take,
To rid me of this ache,
This goes only to come back,
To my heart straight,
To drive in a stake,
Of an infectious hate,
And I am reduced to a state,
Which you would call degenerate,
Because pain drives me crazy,
While I struggle with ‘if’ and ‘maybe’,
And I've known the kind,
Of a sound mind,
And I know what it never does,
Asks for someone's blood,
Not sure when did I start,
When my instincts begun to dart,
Towards this malicious need,
To see your kind bleed,
And let it wash over,
Seep in the soul gone sour,
I couldn't believe what I did,
Mesmerized, my lips I licked,
I swear I could feel the veins,
Pulsing life, making me insane,
Formidable lust to feel the warmth,
Of your neck, you in my arms,
I felt the love as I ripped apart,
Sense of belonging in your every part,
Such absolute unions made me cry,
Meticulously with care I bled you dry,
Breathtaking till last breath,
Most beautiful even in death,
You were dead, I lived again,
Savouring the sickness and stench,
It didn't last though I felt my skin burn,
Dawn broke and sunrise begun,
Crestfallen I struggled to get off my bed,
Get ready for another day and go back to dead.