The Game
A hand hangs limp at your desolate side.Death reaps closer, slowly passing time.
I scream above the rush, but no sound I heard.
Your dying faith, a heart that churns.
Say I love you and question it's truth.
Yank at the strings and pull my heart's roots.
The clock keeps on ticking, ticking to your fate.
A warning trice, but you reprimand the blade.
Can you not see what I've done to you?
Can you not smell your gruesome doom?
I've clipped your wings and let them rot.
A powerless position, the dead is sought.
I let you believe in your own fantasy world.
I sung of kindness, of a string of pearls.
Your big brown eyes, brimmed with tears.
My goal is twisted; a girl's worst fear.
I am nothing but a trickster see?
I am Death's righthand man,
My game's a joker's mimickery, just trying to pass the sand.
Reaper, Reaper, why have you done wrong?
I've killed the angel; the price of it all.
I made her grovel for love, her hands she crawled.
I tortured her and wrecked her.
Her innocence long dead.
She saved me, she made me.
She was the one who bled.
Tick tock tick tock.
Death awaits.
Now she'll return to the pearly gates.
And I will return to my decrepit hell.
Continueing to hunt for another potential empty shell.
It was fun while it lasted.
So easy to manipulate the innocent, no?
Comments