The Pen and The Wind

The writings and musings of a windswept soul.
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I am the rage in the hearts of man,
With spider’s dark tendrils growing from my back,
I am the nexus of the multiverse’s despair,
I am the soulless who found a soul,
One covered in shattered glass and goats blood,
Unworthy for sunlight in the sun’s eyes,
With head too ugly for the Dullahan to claim, 
Soul too decayed to be buried in pigshit,
Frankenstein’s monster took a piss on me,
And I was born to deserve it,
And nothing more.  

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