Atrocious.

Benath the blue heavens,
It's people makin it 3+3 7's.
Creatin mayhem,
And such atrocity,
Lividness and animosity,
And an unknown curiousity,
And defining an utmost insanity.

The Pen's dying to rust,
And the paper fadin to rust,
A soul thirsty of lust,
Cravin for fist,
A bit hazy like mist,
Seems a devil juss kissed.

This is the time to find a station,
Which wouldn't be a part of ur invasion,
The one of which i would be a mason,
And would be a part of my elevation.

It's my past's crematory,
In the labrotory of love,
And a chemical to be alkaline,
The platonic life of mine,
And the sun that would never shine,
Decaying my life on the line.