Im a girl
@Notnotnotover0
In the gut where the shadows adapt,
Failing systems are forced to adapt.
In the dark, silent cells must adapt,
While the living are forced to adapt.
From the waste, a new terror to forge,
In the heat of the fever, a forge.
A microscopic grip you will forge,
As the pain in the center will forge.
Twisted shapes in a sickening rhyme,
Hidden deep in a rhythmic rhyme.
Tracing patterns, a toxic rhyme,
In a pulse, an infected rhyme.
Through the water, a narrowing path,
To the blood, a predatory path.
Tainted seeds on a desolate path,
Death is walking a virulent path.
From the source, the impurities flow,
Where the fluids of agony flow.
Into the abyss, the memories flow,
As the life and the endings flow.