Saturday, September 1, 2007

The Anti-Christ

On the brink of madness
Further and further I sink.
My mind is stirring,
Brewing and boiling.
It begins to melt
No; it evaporates
Vapor vanishing
Now I run...
And yet He chases.

I shall strike
My hammer to that spike.
I will flee that talisman,
Break free of His curse;
To the deep dark void,
Yes, to the night!

My life's the maiden
Wrought with iron.
Fists are bloody,
Eyes crimson red,
I rage!

He shall be slain
And I will reign.
I must rise,
He must fall.

I twist my lie,
Contort the truth,
I'm insane...
He is dead.

Finally rest, finally sleep,
Then He awoke,
Then He rose,
Now I am slain!

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