The rosary wound so very gently Through the fingers of the faithless She praises me for my beauty, I don't see it Her lips are soft, but she is tasteless My sweet disciple, she assures me I’m a god I’ll take her praise, but I won’t stop My pursuit of morbid immorality I’ll never die inside her twisted memories Not if I sink my teeth in deep enough Oh, my wayward worshipper! She hasn’t felt a warm touch once before My cold hands feel like the marble statue of a saint I never told her otherwise, I speared her heart with all my lies And I still wonder, Why can’t she just be fascinating? She spews her loving words, but I find her such a bore I left her, and it wasn’t devastating; it was invigorating So, I set my eyes on new horizons Do I serve some greater purpose? Is there anything more under the surface? Will I throw myself into a fresh lion's den, and if I do, Will you bring me out alive? What use does a god with no believers serve, But to lie in wait for believers anew? I will wait dormant, expectant With lessons learned from my mistakes Retrospect is the greatest teacher Am I a monster to say in one breath, 'au revoir' And in the next, 'Viens à moi'?
I just had to scream words into the abyss for a minute. It's therapeutic <3
