The darkness in my heart,
A void upon my face,
The mask of Blood and Bone,
Clings to my exsistence.
Death has come to steal,
The beating in my breast.
I try to fill the hollow,
With demons from Abyss.
The dead are strung from trees,
Like the icicles of winter.
My tomb of granite hands,
Keeps a cold grip upon my soul.
Blood is dwelling in my wounds,
Flesh festers atop the Bone.
Maggots are swimming sweetly,
In holes within my chest.
Stitches cross and carry,
Like the petal and the thorn,
Vines breaking through the Mask,
Reveals my rotten core.
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Submission Name: Broken Blood
