![Dimly Lit Fluttering Moth [Ellis] thumbnail](https://f4.bcbits.com/img/0032196289_42.jpg)
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You Were Never Loved
09:31
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Each late night reading Prodigal Son
My name is etched in between each line
As the words; they well your eyes
Each count of my breath brings me closer to
The worst thing that has ever been said by you
These horns you see
Surfacing
Twist into the only way
I keep myself alive
The last thing I hear is -
“You were never loved
You are not a part of us
Each foul breath you take
Spits in the face of the God that has promised me grace”
I was so afraid of the person I knew I was
I walked in the path of saints
Guided by spiteful acolytes
To an emptiness I can never put into words
To the final resting place of the peace that I wanted to know
“You were never loved.”
I know. I feel it gnaw on my bones.
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2. |
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I hear the sound of the triumph of rapture.
Lock arms so we can all die together.
Loved ones will sew our bodies below;
In shallow graves, rotting beneath the glowing moon.
I see the faces I was meant to trust reflect off my iris,
And I am afraid.
I know that the voices I cherish will blur my thoughts every night,
And I am afraid.
It's a dance; flutter soft and slow.
Look through me; there's a warm glow.
Come outside but don't look;
Everything we built has died.
They play the hymn mocking my loss;
Crushing my body.
Beneath the lights guiding me home;
Glowing in scarlet.
I was a moth caught in the light of my friends.
I was a moth who will be left behind in the end.
Rapture has left me alone;
And I am afraid.
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Wounds of Recollection Atlanta, Georgia
Atlanta based solo artist, Wounds of Recollection, weaves bright bursts of black metal and crushing detours into doom metal
in between somber moments of shoegaze, emo, post-rock, and drone to fuel a sound inspired by loss, coming to terms with aging, and long-forgotten simpler times.
Formed in 2014.
Created and produced anonymously and independently.
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