

The RiderHere comes the gaunt rider, Tall and faceless,The Rider
Atop his mount Of gears and bones, A mesh of oil and caked blood Covering the discordant noises Of the beasts pace.
The crimson sky oversees The black rider as he moves about on grass that is no longer green, on ground that is no longer brown, For the lifeless bodies -whole or not- Littering the field Force the spectrum of colors To restrict its display.
The rider has no emotion, No response is shown
To the still chaos Surrounding him. The tattered flag he


SorrowYou are losing it, Little by little, Sanity and soulSorrow
Finding themselves Full of holes
All of a sudden, And your screams, Awfully silent, Do nothing but Fill the air with
Your sad miasma. You are a contradiction, An exception to a rule That never made sense, And when you needed Warmth, and a live body To lean on, to cry upon, You only find loneliness Smirking at you, Because it knows you, More than you know, More than you wish to know. It is too late now To escape your own trap, Your web and fog, &n
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So break yourself against my stones
And spit your pity in my soul
You never needed any help
You sold me out to save yourself
And I won't listen to your shame
You ran away, you're all the same...
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Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.
Art is knowing which ones to keep.
Scott Adams
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Visit the DARK NECROPSY
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my (main) gallerysections:
Animals [link] , Cosplay [link] , People [link]
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