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Array ( [sid] => 176635 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => In the Hall of Corpses... [time] => 2013-08-03 01:19:01 [hometext] => "It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood." -William Shakespeare [bodytext] => She walked amongst the piles of bloodied corpses,
In the midst of losing her only dear sanity,
Drinking in the blood she's spilled finally
As a final astute message to those who had doubted her haunting capabilities;
For all those fools aside knew she was a rotten monster.

With her love lost and
Having never been rebounded,
Nor picked up again as is it's discarded torch,
Losing its only fiery brilliancy for it was
What she feared most,
Flames forgiving her and reminding her
Of it's relative who which gladly accepted the deal to damn her.

Lips cherry red from multiple plucks and tugs
Demanding attention to her worries with sharpened teeth,
The wandering girl wonders her state of present mind as
She continues to gain ever closer more
To the door on the other side of the Hall of Corpses.

The mirrors on either side set to reminder her of her disposition,
Set to present to her long decided upon decision,
Lost eyes and glooming sorrows haunting her every several movement,
Revealing to a-many few acquaintances of what she had to barder
If only in order to retain her settled mind again.

This is where she had lost everything,
And this is where her true nature had set itself on it's path due course.

A bloodied hand reaches out,
Striking in it's bright porcelaince while splashed with the red of the deceased,
Readying itself to make the decision for her should she hover upon hesitance.

This hand is her own,
And it won't wait very long for her.

It's with this she understands,
Looking upon the room with one single breathless eye and the air of apathy,
Arm shaking in it's frozen position –
That she knows who she is now,
At the very present moment.

She understands it is the blood of the others settled warmly beneath her bare feet
That comforts her as she rests her hand upon the single shining doorknob.
She wants to stay in that present moment forever,
At least a little while longer while the macabre room still retains it's horrifying brilliance
And keeps itself a soft sight for her typically sore eyes,
That could no longer stand the sun.

It's with this she says goodbye without a word slipping past her still mouth,
Counting each carcass in her head as she pays her due and obligated,
For this time cruel and hypocritically kind,
Last respects.

The others not there and thus spared would never see her again,
Not unless she came for them;
Not unless they wanted to end up like the rest of her family and friends behind her.

She walks out with a harsh forced laugh through her cold rigid lips,
Eyes shut and sealing in a false manner of glee:
And behind her settles her old state of then-insanity,
Trading itself in for the new.

And along the way she drops a few rigid tears,
Dripping dews and the only proof:
She's walking out with a mountain-load of rage and regrets
And her old and only stubborn constant of a heartfelt wish that maybe still she'll find someone who'll give her a chance again. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 84 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Ensis718 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

In the Hall of Corpses...

Contributed by Ensis718 on Saturday, 3rd August 2013 @ 01:19:01 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

She walked amongst the piles of bloodied corpses,
In the midst of losing her only dear sanity,
Drinking in the blood she's spilled finally
As a final astute message to those who had doubted her haunting capabilities;
For all those fools aside knew she was a rotten monster.

With her love lost and
Having never been rebounded,
Nor picked up again as is it's discarded torch,
Losing its only fiery brilliancy for it was
What she feared most,
Flames forgiving her and reminding her
Of it's relative who which gladly accepted the deal to damn her.

Lips cherry red from multiple plucks and tugs
Demanding attention to her worries with sharpened teeth,
The wandering girl wonders her state of present mind as
She continues to gain ever closer more
To the door on the other side of the Hall of Corpses.

The mirrors on either side set to reminder her of her disposition,
Set to present to her long decided upon decision,
Lost eyes and glooming sorrows haunting her every several movement,
Revealing to a-many few acquaintances of what she had to barder
If only in order to retain her settled mind again.

This is where she had lost everything,
And this is where her true nature had set itself on it's path due course.

A bloodied hand reaches out,
Striking in it's bright porcelaince while splashed with the red of the deceased,
Readying itself to make the decision for her should she hover upon hesitance.

This hand is her own,
And it won't wait very long for her.

It's with this she understands,
Looking upon the room with one single breathless eye and the air of apathy,
Arm shaking in it's frozen position –
That she knows who she is now,
At the very present moment.

She understands it is the blood of the others settled warmly beneath her bare feet
That comforts her as she rests her hand upon the single shining doorknob.
She wants to stay in that present moment forever,
At least a little while longer while the macabre room still retains it's horrifying brilliance
And keeps itself a soft sight for her typically sore eyes,
That could no longer stand the sun.

It's with this she says goodbye without a word slipping past her still mouth,
Counting each carcass in her head as she pays her due and obligated,
For this time cruel and hypocritically kind,
Last respects.

The others not there and thus spared would never see her again,
Not unless she came for them;
Not unless they wanted to end up like the rest of her family and friends behind her.

She walks out with a harsh forced laugh through her cold rigid lips,
Eyes shut and sealing in a false manner of glee:
And behind her settles her old state of then-insanity,
Trading itself in for the new.

And along the way she drops a few rigid tears,
Dripping dews and the only proof:
She's walking out with a mountain-load of rage and regrets
And her old and only stubborn constant of a heartfelt wish that maybe still she'll find someone who'll give her a chance again.

Copyright Â© Ensis718 ... [ 2013-08-03 01:19:01]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: In the Hall of Corpses... (User Rating: 1 )
by deusdeira on Saturday, 3rd August 2013 @ 02:34:23 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

an interesting story. A wish for a second chance. i say well done.

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