Marco Polo

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left a lowly state as to scramble to gather up your will
this is the foor on your neck
this is the pressure
and when you fall I will be there without doubt
I get a sick sort of pleasure in holding you down
on the stones that you've thrown
I've collected to just cast back
this is retribution come calling
this is absolute
if pain has a limit I'm pushed past far beyond
now I pray for an answered prayer for you to be gone
your voice is static a shadow fading
damp and paper thing
the sun for you shines less with each passing day
say farewell to hideous reflection
say so long to the trend you are
welcome crushing devastation
accept the shit you are.

Autor(es): A.18