Stillborn - Criminal

I sit upon

An ornamented throne

In front of those

Who celebrate I’m gone

My eyes of glass

Witness the twisted mass

They dance in joy

I’m ignorance’s toy

Pure child

Immaculate

Cold, white

And innocent

I give release

From life in pain

I am idol

I am their hope

I’m dead

Fanatic

Ecstatic

Obsessed

Blessed with death

Stench of mortality

My body rots away

They boil my flesh

Prolonged decay

Extending this insanity

Fanatic

Ecstatic

Obsessed

Blessed with death