Dead Will Be The King Poem by Unic Cjonr

Why believe the heart torn, which is the only thief - Why not put me to death, a feast with the dead - Finally for my dark soul, the pressure of pleasure to a release - When you are unhappy, a cross of grief - I am happy, when my nose bleeds, nails taste like my tongue, i vomit, just to breathe - The fly fed by my meat of flesh, she reaps, i cry, in defeat - I will obey the wind, the flow off her rotten wings - I will swell, if she stings - I shall be her joker, her jack, her queen - If she wears the crown and i bow to a box, dead will be the king.