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Maybe The End

Contributed by MG_Akela22090 on Saturday, 13th January 2007 @ 01:12:10 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

Her story was simple.
Of blood and pain.
Of a love she couldnt find.
Wandering in those corridors.
Seeing straight through the world.
Stepping on the shattered glass
Sipping at the poison.
The last supper holds no safety,
Instead she sits there awaiting no sacrifice.
Drink of the wine.
Eat of the flesh.
Cannibalistic needs.
Lust for the feeling of love.
The feeling of being possessed.
Hold tight.
Stay all night.
Drown in the drink.
Drown in the cold.
Watching her breath freeze with her heart.
Predictable diseases.
No excitement.
A walking destruction.
A bomb ready to destroy.
Want to make them see,
But steers away.
A death.
A need.
Dreams haunt her of things she doesnt want to see.
Knowing all the time,
She is the catalyst for the end of days.
Alone to feel the sorrow.
Alone to hear the words.
The voices to return.
To feel insanity.
To hate her being.
To want to bleed for a sacrifice.
Fall away into other world.
Finds no help.
Her story was so simple.
So easy.
So nothing.
So shallow.
To hear the night descend,
And know the moon has no power.
To crave the power.
To crave the hunt.
To crave the kill.
Staring a hole into air.
Invisibility is easier that the existent she has now.
Blood pours from everything
Turning it all red.
And she sits there waiting for it to engulf the world she knows.
The betrayer of blood.
Of darkness.
Of light.
No balance.
Here she stands.
Waiting for everything to end.
And she runs,
Standing still.
No one can see,
Understand.
Feel.
No one will know,
When it all comes crashing down.
Her story was simple,
But it was lost.
So no one can ever know,
Her death lies with them.

Copyright © MG_Akela22090 ... [ 2007-01-13 13:12:10]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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