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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