Consternated

Bow to the suffering, and let it chop off your head.

Battle-hardened, the war has started

The world has fallen, the dead are calling

The bodies molten, the blood is moulded

Our hearts are open, our solace broken

Our fingers groping, our minds awoken

Bleeding thickly, pulsating quickly

Hatred is with me, a gate to the sickness

Oblivion witness, obsidian liquid

Open forever, our love is severed

Tethered together, metal memories

Secreted freedom, chaotic reason

Lawless, beaten, we hope for evil

To undo the lock within our blood

Shudder shut flustered in the cold gust

And wade through shade, and slay undone

To the world that crossed us, for the death we’ve won

The spider's web of memories, the future spun

My mind is charred with the Armageddon

The final threads, sown together again

For the spirit men, ordered sulfuric we bleed

Breeding in captivity, feeding on futility

When the world carries on, as blood runs

No one will save us, God hasn’t forgave us

No soul is sacred, when lives are taken

Our time is done, I will be done

On earth, in hell, settled in heaven

Metal predators, irradiated in haven

A sanctuary, we will be buried

Consternated, obliterated

Christened obituaries carry on

Within me swishes marionettes

Pathetic sedative, operating consternated

Consternated, for my hatred

No sanctuary will carry me

No piece will be left of my breath

Neglected conception, with no mention

Consternated epicentre dimension

To the suffering that suffocates

To the nothing that I am

To the thing I have become

To the very body, mind, and soul

Revolting in the opening of hopelessness

Consternated, on the inside

Consternated, numb, stiff, cold, unwhole

Consternated, forever

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.