The Nothing
A poem.
Tick. A seed of Sin is planted,
Tock. And a vile plant begins to grow.
Tick. From its petals, the Nothing spreads,
Tock. And consumes the life we were granted.
Tick. It takes its time, marching slow,
Tock. And works its way into our heads.
Tick. By its will, our minds corrupted,
Tock. It dismantles all we know.
Tick. Forever-more the Nothing spreads,
Tock. From the seed of Sin that we planted.
~~ Tori
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