Death’s Orchestra

Fear can have you huddled up


Thinking of evils that could occur

But you hate yourself for the thought of it


You could slit your wrist just at the tip of it, at that thought

That scary skit


Always watching yourself, it won’t quit


It’s like a symphony of your death

Being played to you like it’s

Telling you to come and collect

The sheet music that’ll stop your breath


A percussion you can feel in your chest

Symbols ringing in your head

Strings that’ll try and twang you dead


Judge (me) Dread.

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