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Rigid as a corpse,
lax in his muscles.
A spark of light in glazed eyes,
dazed with madness.
As though his soul
in its refuge deep and buried
peered through a ghost-body fog and,
catching a glimpse of a visage familiar,
sought to dredge itself to its twin windows.
No, no, go back, little soul.
This image you hold so safe and sacred
is the beck and boon of the enemy trickster.
Flee, flee from me.
Too late, too late. I'd called him to his doom.
- by Silver Nephilim |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 12/17/2008 |
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- Title: Монолог
- Artist: Silver Nephilim
- Description: From point of view of a gypsy seeing his friend after he's tortured. The title is "Soliloquy" in Russian.
- Date: 12/17/2008
- Tags: need title help
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Comments (2 Comments)
- Oni Trick - 12/17/2008
- wow its awsome how about "Tortured "
- Report As Spam
- Demonic Storm - 12/17/2008
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intense tei. as usual.
title... hmm.... how about "tortued soul"? - Report As Spam