In Shrouds Decayed

I am your shrine
I am your womb
You rest inside my me
My flesh shall be your tomb

Your words decayed
The foulest rain
A shroud of mildewed lies enwrapping your remains
Your body draped
Next to mine
Exposed to all unless they've chosen to be blind

You cause my sweat
To drop as blood
Soiling this meager ground of desecrated mud
Your mind depraved
You've crucified yourself upon my barren grave

My fingers tenderly
Caress your face
I shall preserve my hatred until the end of days

I've concieved you
I've destroyed you
You were still born
Inside of me