Back sucking life, I still see feel a collapsing heart, And felt the proper body, a temple in ruins. Covered in crawling, gasping wounds. Even on the preacherss tongue, rising from the womb. And I lay in my death and suffering, forgotten and erased. I stand here weeping, in open wounds. We are light now. Supposedly from all the suffering. Dont save me, I am supporting death. A collapsed heart, supporting the death of her. A portal to a place, I regret all of her. Even on the preacherss tongue, rising from the flaming womb. Rising like the final wave, Falling as we must save her. We are all choking from the inside now. Look again as the walls burn, Rising fire. Here we find the last of the answer. Burning and breaking down. They said moaning, we all learn now, for wretchedness.
rising, supporting, preacher, womb, tongue