Rage
This is one of oldest poem I wrote at age 6 or so, and came to fact that I was an angry child #hate #anger #rage #revenge ------------------------ Standing at top of my world Looking down to...
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This is one of oldest poem I wrote at age 6 or so, and came to fact that I was an angry child #hate #anger #rage #revenge ------------------------ Standing at top of my world Looking down to...
Murderous Molly the killer butterfly Don't get too close or she'll poke you in the eye She's a butterfly in disguise And she loves to hear your cries Hide away and lock your doors Or she'll forever...
Loner's are such easy prey, letting me close to you, death will be your stay. I've gone by many names, Jack is my favorite by far, you will find my presence, waiting at a local bar.
#nightdwellers Could offend the sensitive I suppose To share my soul delight, Naughty secrets in the night, Pure wants, dominating minds, sexual thoughts desires entwined.
Your sharp kiss runs across my wrist. Should I give myself in. Your supple voice so lemon kissed But I'm more into sin.
The grim reaper finds his victim, There will be no time for fixing. After death, after life, Mr grim needs no knife. His boney finger, Is what makes him the reaper.
This is a poem that define me as a outline.
Your hands touch me; they poke, they prod, they paw Lacking mercy, I fall victim each night Your voices it whispers with your hatred raw And I shudder, flesh pervaded with fright You tear my sleep...
The dark wood line on the horizon Gleams of a deep scarlet red. The fog begins to part, Depressing thoughts rummage my head. Why do I try. I never succeed.
Mirror mirror on the wall, How do I stop this all. The voices pound inside my head, Images flashing, burning red. A drip of blood, an ounce of tears, Maybe you're too young for my years.
The reaper grim,. Has come herein,. To take your soul,. With his scythe,. You will writhe,. Until you're no longer whole,. With his hooded cloak,. Your life broke,. Your meeting will never end well,.
Darkness seeps through the cracks. My amor, now under attack. The sirens sound, but I don't fight back. I let my walls crumble while I laugh, a laugh that belongs to my other half.
Jack, and Jill Went up the Hill To fetch a pail of Water What they found Instead, When they lay there In bed, Was a world full of Slaughter 'You wanna go Out?' I asked my Jill and Jill said, 'I don't...
Bring me the little one of the embarked graves. You must be reprimanded, Your false smile of purple and emerald Is very much like a falling icicle into the mundane heart.
I am a black lake, my reflection darker than the devil's blood. I have no hope today, no ambition, I want to give up again, a tiring repeat of twelve years age.
Stuff me up like a worm digging its blinded mind to the center Of a rotten world in glass mirrors and cerise markings. Push maggots threw my veins when you let go of the heat.
Edged with poison, This lullaby, Drug induced haven, My child's eye, Focusing darkly, This wicked lie, Defeats me. Life, This paradise, A slice, You gave me, Love, You saved me, And snatched it away.
#adventchallenge Not many of us will survive, We'll be more dead, than alive, But you'll have fun when you're together, I just pray you have bad weather.
Run, with your eyes of emptiness. Steal away with all your secrets. Take what you want. Blind to your crimes. Run, with your eyes like ice. Do what you want. Ignorant in empathy.
I found them in the bedroom, My husband with the maid, My husband with that little rat, The one with the brown braid.
Dreams are uncontrollable Nothing hidden or buried out of sight Reasons unrecognisable Simply listen to that bump in the night.
Cross my wrists and hope to die,. Whilst trapped within a tragic lie,. The macabre, so dark and grim,. Within a life where lights are dim,. Lost and lonely; dying slowly,.
I woke up a Christmas morning, aged nine I was sure I was gonna have a great time. It was six am so early but I was wide awake. Looking forward to presents and Xmas cake.
#thesoulsofconnecticut. It doesn't surprise me. the devil at work. It happens so often. And so regularly occurs. That shock doesn't surface. When reading the news. Those innocent souls.