Tear your finger tips
To shreds. I watch the burning beds of
Orphans, mutilated by their past, running
From the shadows that I cast, now
On-to your face
The veins and structural assembly
Create horrific ornaments
To be dismantled by my hands
And all the fans they cheer
Yet covered in your blood i cannot hear
Anything but your helpless cries
While all your lies lose their disguise
See truth as sharpened blade
Twist it and soon your past shall fade
Into your skin, marking it with sin
Scars shall remain the same
Scars shall always shame your name
Image from www.deviantart.com
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