Author: Chetna Chaudhary

  • Antichrist

    Milk mixed with blood is what she was fed
    Playing with the damned souls like toys on her bed
    In the world of men who claim to have might
    She’s the spawn of the devil, we call her antichrist.

    The sufferings of the man of which there is no dirth
    She’s amazed at what sins mere human do birth

    observing every detail
    she says satan that whom we hail
    details making her knowledgeable about humankind’s weakness
    fears!
    that’s what she has been screaming
    Visiting a church to look normal
    being an antichrist she knew she had to be formal
    slitting the priest’s throat
    taking over
    sacrificing a goat
    got worshiped
    In the name of marry’s child
    Got a kid sick his fever mild

    Mascara overflowing
    Black and red on the skin
    Her flesh was pale white as marble
    Her eyes are grey stones
    Medusa they call her
    Matted locks of her hair
    Dance in wild abandon
    No emotion
    No expression
    She silently waits for God’s son
    In a world that doesn’t
    look her in the eye
    The savior of mankind
    Shall make her his bride

    Together they shall purge
    The hypocrite society
    That think love is a choice
    Reserved for the high and mighty

    -middle child

  • Antichrist

    Milk mixed with blood is what she was fed
    Playing with the damned souls like toys on her bed
    In the world of men who claim to have might
    She’s the spawn of the devil, we call her antichrist.

    The sufferings of the man of which there is no dirth
    She’s amazed at what sins mere human do birth

    observing every detail
    she says satan that whom we hail
    details making her knowledgeable about humankind’s weakness
    fears!
    that’s what she has been screaming
    Visiting a church to look normal
    being an antichrist she knew she had to be formal
    slitting the priest’s throat
    taking over
    sacrificing a goat
    got worshiped
    In the name of marry’s child
    Got a kid sick his fever mild

    Mascara overflowing
    Black and red on the skin
    Her flesh was pale white as marble
    Her eyes are grey stones
    Medusa they call her
    Matted locks of her hair
    Dance in wild abandon
    No emotion
    No expression
    She silently waits for God’s son
    In a world that doesn’t
    look her in the eye
    The savior of mankind
    Shall make her his bride

    Together they shall purge
    The hypocrite society
    That think love is a choice
    Reserved for the high and mighty

    -middle child

New Report

Close