Inside of you
there was a blue bird that wanted to go out
But you’ve strangled him years ago
and the dead corpse is polluting your mind
with a putrefaction that you turned to a soul.
A bundle of sadness, wrath and anger
The laughter is just a cry that echoes
Maniac eyes spreading ire
they were the first to put on fire,
your two little girls.
I inherit the corpse
and its decadent disintegration
She carries the weight
of everlasting consumption.
And now that our souls are left asunder,
how much do we look like you,