Tierra Hull

I can feel myself changing Like the very earth thats shaking beneath me My souls falling the hells of fire bequeth me Drowning on flames that flicker off my toungue in artistic prose Just another way for my mind to decompose These brown eyes often take the shade of roses Popping blood vessels to stress emotions The dark holds so strong pupils dilate to the corona Beep like a machine stuck in a coma Living, breathing cant direct a path for my wrath without destruction Walking volcano never knowing when will be the next eruption Or who will be the next consumption Of the feelings that rip holes in the frame that holds me. The one to showcase the way the devil takes control and how his lessons unfold into a being of greed to discieve all those that try to interviene. Because the skeletons of the fallen are the stairs to those who rise. I hope Im no longer alive to watch my own demise.