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Autece Soul Jul 2014
Have I been consumed by the night's gloom
Darkness forming around the ever so bright moon
My life seems to come to an end too soon

The veins bleed of not red but of black suffocation
Poisoned with the black veins of the rotting earth
As it grasps the little breath of a helpless hope
The moon, it haunts me with it's bright reflection
Grinning an evil smile
My life is ending too soon

Shattered is the frozen skin of a lively flesh
As the Jack Frost winter freezes the life into death
The eyes of glass marbles no longer seeing a future
As my life is ending too soon

The tears turn blue frozen
As it travels across the cool fleshed skin
Trapped in cold winter's doom
Never escaping from the ice cased sorrow
As it prays for a tomorrow only to realize
My life is ending too soon

With this gloom I consumed with the night
Haunted by the moon
As it poisons my mental state
With similar reminiscent of an angel with bright eyes
As I slowly realize while I fall from the night sky
With earth rapidly approaching,
My life, is ending too soon.
Autece Soul Jul 2014
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Autece Soul Jul 2014
A bright light blinds my gloomy brown irises as the extended recoil continues to burst semi-automatic rounds through my chest cavity,centimeters away from the beating pulse keeping me alive. Never saw the irony in playing with fire until the last fraction of my soul abated the spark between two lover's bloom, only to suppress my impending doom. When the concluding bullet down the sixteen inch barrel fires perpendicular to the ground, horizontally to my heart, my ribs rupture, my world blackens, a shrapnel of fragments spread as my soul is shattered. My face streaming poisonous black tears of a lonely being receding to the new found resting place. A soulless figure laying parallel to the frigid solid concrete with a slightly conscious mind. I extend my hand in her direction, glancing one last time at the silhouette figure standing above me. She mutters, "it's over" then fires two hollow point bullets, one in my head, one in my heart, my eyes motionless, my breath non-existent. All that remains is a shadow, roaming the earth with no aspiration, with no more love to give.
Autece Soul Jul 2014
Stroke, stroke, dip
Stroke, stroke, dip
The writings on the wall
The words from my lips
The vibrant red is live
On the brush it drips
Paintings of my pain
Sanity losing grip
A world now warped
The handle starts to slip
Years of wear and tear
A heart with a small chip
Cracks began to grow
As the wall starts to bleed
Stains scar the surface
A wounded soul in need
Acrylic love ascends
Brushes with such speed
Paintings of my love
An attempt of good deeds
Soon is forgotten
As the walls start to strip
Unable to let go
The paint starts to rip
The tears began to form
The shaft loses grip
The writings on the wall
The words from my lips
The vibrant red is dead
On the brush it drips
Paintings of my pain
Stroke, stroke, dip
Unable to escape
Stroke, stroke, dip
Paintbrush by Autece Soul is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

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