Possessed

The church is breathing rot beneath a dying sky,

Stone walls soaked in prayers that never reached on high.

Candles shake like sinners when the silence speaks,

Faith tastes like iron, blood between the teeth.

He walks the aisle alone, collar cutting skin,

Chosen by the lie they dressed salvation in.

Saints stare blind from colored glass,

Every vow a question, every prayer a mask.

He learned the words before he learned his name,

Buried doubt beneath devotion, guilt beneath the flame.

But nothing buried ever stays asleep,

And something underneath the altar starts to breathe.

The priest is possessed, halo rotting in flame,

A demon wears his body, screaming heaven’s name.

Knees in the dirt, teeth full of blood and sin,

He prays for a God that never answers him.

Holy water boils when it touches his skin,

Latin prayers decay, folding inward again.

The cross grows heavy, not with holy weight,

But with every unanswered prayer he swallowed in faith.

The voice comes gentle, crawling through his spine,

Not a scream of hatred — something more divine.

“I am not your enemy,” it whispers slow,

“I am the truth your God refused to show.”

RIP THE CROSS FROM THE WALL

LET IT SHATTER AND FALL

NO ANGEL DESCENDS

NO SAVIOR AT ALL

PRAY HARDER

BLEED MORE

HEAVEN IS A LOCKED DOOR

The priest is possessed, veins burning black,

Scripture bleeds from a serpent’s back.

Halo in ashes, soul split in two,

He screams for forgiveness — the demon smiles through.

He stares in the mirror, a stranger looks back,

Smile too wide in priestly black.

The collar’s a blade, the skin gives way,

Something inside him begs to stay.

It doesn’t force, it doesn’t fight,

It waits for doubt to kill the light.

The door was never locked or sealed,

Faith was the wound that let it heal.

He draws the circle, cuts his hand,

Bleeds devotion into sacred land.

Every name of God becomes a door,

And every door leads inward more.

The priest is possessed, crowned in sin,

Consecrated flesh lets the demon in.

God stays silent, hell speaks clear,

The truth sounds louder when fear disappears.

KNEES TO THE GROUND

SPINE SNAPS BACK

THIS IS NOT EVIL

THIS IS THE CRACK

THE DEMON DIDN’T ENTER

IT WAS ALWAYS NEAR

LISTENING PATIENT

FEEDING ON FEAR

The priest is possessed — not by force, but choice,

He followed the truth instead of a silent voice.

Baptized in fire, reborn unclean,

Nothing left of faith, nothing in between.

The candles die, the bells won’t sing,

The church stands empty — no God, no king.

The priest remains, neither saved nor damned,

Finally awake… with blood on his hands.