Doodle #71

Brittle,
The soul of a lifeless vessel crumbles,
Streaks of agony prod against its vestige,
A silent and solemn plead to be released,
Bound to the curse cast upon thyself,
Resolve for deliverance is but a reverie.

A vessel,
Plundered of all sentiment,
A marionette finally unchained,
Yet incapacitated,
He moves without thought,
Driven not by sensation but instinct,
A primal instinct still embedded within him,
The feeling of fear.

Fear not for the clash,
But for the aftermath,
Fear not for the beauty,
But for the fiend adherent.

A symbol of pure malevolence,
Imbued with an overwhelming sense of vehemence,
One could not hope to stand up against such odds,
Despite the spite,
It was still a spectacle to behold,
A remembrance to the power of deceit,
Laced by detestation of the abomination.

A subtle but frenzied bid to abscond,
He was an adept at that,
It had been his calling from the very beginning,
Yet beneath it all,
He cracked a grin as he made himself scarce,
A mark of absolution.

Once again, I apologize for the grim and depressive tone of my work. I think I really do get the most inspiration driving. I didn't want to waste any of my thoughts, they only come every so often anyways.

Cheers.

I'll try to blog about today later on, perhaps tomorrow. SNOWFLAKES WHAI YOU NO POWER TODAY?

Kinoc, out.