Written by Tantrik Nihilist
Now that she’s dead,
Her memory fades,
In my mind,
As her body does,
In her grave.
Just as maggots,
Writhed once,
Upon her corpse,
Like the pain that once writhed,
Within my soul,
Is an absence of itself,
But replaced with something,
Much worse,
Than the wounded animal,
That once I was.
Text © Tantrik Nihilist
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