Thread: The Smell

The smell of them.

The gaseous, gut wrenching stench.

Nothing compares to that of the stink.
The stink of souls.
Souls that feed from your misery.

To see it makes my spirit burn.
They give eachother titles they never earned.
Just to spit, right in my eye.
Hungry, so they watch me die.

Or is it that they want me to stink.
Just like them... A vulture.
But I will never sink.

Sink so low as to share their stink.

They do not know that Im still crying.
Because I wanted to believe the lying.
Convincing me to set pain aside.
But I'll let them think I've already died.

I've already rotted.
At least thats what they should think.
I've already given up my soul.

To ones I know, could never stink.