07-22-2011, 01:57 AM
I am Evil. Hurling from the dawn of man my arrowheads, my blunted knives,
my early years my dark excuse, I wallow, bathe in misery;
I've built my spa with stolen bones; your graves lie empty as old shoes.
To rage and scream on grassy hills, to bellow at the awkward sky,
a pickled fetus, stillborn, blue, is what sustains my dying soul,
that withers from the love of those who seek to cure my ailing heart,
to cover it in bandages, play rainbows on eternal loop.
my early years my dark excuse, I wallow, bathe in misery;
I've built my spa with stolen bones; your graves lie empty as old shoes.
To rage and scream on grassy hills, to bellow at the awkward sky,
a pickled fetus, stillborn, blue, is what sustains my dying soul,
that withers from the love of those who seek to cure my ailing heart,
to cover it in bandages, play rainbows on eternal loop.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe