Tomb Or Tumor
A bell am I, so is the brittle frame
by Iam notThou
For now when struck but sounds a sinking knell
Tis her, the hammer, without thought or aim
Surely Loneliness' chill fears Hell's thick flame
Though frigid I am, the thoughts naught but dwell
On she who absorbs most ecstatic praise
Then who is the beast and who is the maze?
If she, truly beast, built on shapeless whim?
A whisp, darkling, or ephemeral glaze
Strange that I pass through into futures grim
The tomb or the tumor, which one is worse
Be Ruin Herself, or Ruin's pale curse?