Hellbound Hearse

Posted: May 22, 2016 in Dark Poetry, Poetry

Hellbound hearse




Dig up an airy grave and bury me inside a hearse
No need for coffins because I love shifting gears
Blank-tinted windows all the way to hell
Doing the speed limit, there’s a hellhound on my trail

Hell fires blaze while the stereo blasts the blues
But I’ll stifle my screams, ’til i fade into greyish hues
I’ll find my comfort in dark and bloody insanity
I cut my own wrists, now you know my propensity

The moral of the rhyme is I’m losing my marbles
Dreaming of the worst ’cause that’s the way my life goes
Fast life, excruciating pain all around the clock
But sweet relief is promised at the hollow end of a loaded Glock



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