Underground_Network
March 20th, 2009, 08:55 PM
Grasp hold of what is not in front of you
For if you let go or fail
You shall spiral downward
Toward the rotten ground
Beneath you.
You may wonder what it is
That you are to grab hold
In this epoch of catastrophes;
Whether it be the stinger of a scorpion,
The horn of a rhinoceros, or the molten rock of a volcano.
You know it will not be nice,
For the world is not a nice place,
But know this, thou who calls thyself 'wise,'
That what is beneath your feet
Is not kind either.
If flames engulfing your body
And razors and spikes embedding themselves
Deep beneath your skin
Are enjoyable things in your mind,
Then by all means, fall.
But if you are not one
Who is willing to deem thyself 'masochist,'
Then I highly suggest
You grasp hold of the unknown;
For the unknown can be nicer than you think.
That scorpion stinger could be
Something joyous and bright,
It could be a solidified ray of sunshine
Bringing with it warmth and comfort,
Like a nurturing mother.
That horn of a rhinoceros could be
The hand of an angel descended from above,
Come to save you, and only you,
An angel that will guide you
And protect you from life's hindrances.
That molten rock of a volcano
Could be a fallen star,
Bright and glowing,
Like all idols should be;
Supportive and caring like a very close friend.
So grab hold of the unknown,
Smile for once in your life,
Then realize what is in your hand,
And let go of it,
And fall; fall into darkness, into bloodshed, into torment.
It is worth it; you know now that it is worth it!
All of the pain and suffering in this world
Are better than what you grasped hold of,
You would commit every sin known to man
Just to avoid what you grasped hold of.
That cold, cold hand,
With its old, wrinkly fingers,
Its long, discolored fingernails,
Its horrid rotting flesh,
That belongs to the one you despise more than death itself;
Your father.
For if you let go or fail
You shall spiral downward
Toward the rotten ground
Beneath you.
You may wonder what it is
That you are to grab hold
In this epoch of catastrophes;
Whether it be the stinger of a scorpion,
The horn of a rhinoceros, or the molten rock of a volcano.
You know it will not be nice,
For the world is not a nice place,
But know this, thou who calls thyself 'wise,'
That what is beneath your feet
Is not kind either.
If flames engulfing your body
And razors and spikes embedding themselves
Deep beneath your skin
Are enjoyable things in your mind,
Then by all means, fall.
But if you are not one
Who is willing to deem thyself 'masochist,'
Then I highly suggest
You grasp hold of the unknown;
For the unknown can be nicer than you think.
That scorpion stinger could be
Something joyous and bright,
It could be a solidified ray of sunshine
Bringing with it warmth and comfort,
Like a nurturing mother.
That horn of a rhinoceros could be
The hand of an angel descended from above,
Come to save you, and only you,
An angel that will guide you
And protect you from life's hindrances.
That molten rock of a volcano
Could be a fallen star,
Bright and glowing,
Like all idols should be;
Supportive and caring like a very close friend.
So grab hold of the unknown,
Smile for once in your life,
Then realize what is in your hand,
And let go of it,
And fall; fall into darkness, into bloodshed, into torment.
It is worth it; you know now that it is worth it!
All of the pain and suffering in this world
Are better than what you grasped hold of,
You would commit every sin known to man
Just to avoid what you grasped hold of.
That cold, cold hand,
With its old, wrinkly fingers,
Its long, discolored fingernails,
Its horrid rotting flesh,
That belongs to the one you despise more than death itself;
Your father.