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PRAXIS
No nails in your hands, but they're forced in the dirt.
Witless. Docile. Dragged with the herd.
You bathe in blood. You scum, you worthless swine.
Guilty where you stand. Murder of the mind.
Empty fucking stomach from vomiting lies.
Your heaven is a prison and your cross a disguise.
Your words that you've bastardized.
My bastard eyes you've cauterized.
Clawed my tongue from my mouth, silencing my cries.
You're just a crook.
Crooked as your smile.
I see your false gaze, that whisper of fear.
Deeper and deeper, you dig the world's grave.
Deeper and deeper, just the work of a slave.
(Lifeless eyes open, wilt as you enslave.)
Twisting your words. Counterfeit truth.
Twisting your words, tie up your noose.
