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St_SamielPoems
My Lost soul, These tears are my Morse code. The pain seeing, Your own future foretold. and There's no "sustain" mode. Still hard to accept, That I failed though. While I die slow, The scars and open wounds, I can't show. I'm in the darkness, But I can't glow. I feel suffocated, There's not rain or sunlight, So I can't grow. Like a dried canal, I can't flow. I'm a prohibited space, Not even I can't go. Vain punishment? or Vain scold? Standing at Hell's gate In my hand, There's Heaven's scroll. Stranger in the dark texted my mom, It told her I'm not coming home. WHY?? She replied, I said because I'm running away from all the, PAIN I HOLD! THE SINS I MOLD! THE WRONGS I DID! THE GRIEF I SOLD! AND This suffering cry deep inside my soul. No sun too hot, No deep to cold. Famished, The crust of my lips crave for food of thought, and Thirst for a drink of gold. Yet much will stay unfold, Yet more will be untold. and Even when all is said and done, More will be forgotten, and little will be engraved in stone, Above the head of the lonely troll. For this lost soul, Much is borrowed, Verily, verily less is owed.
0
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
-O Zone
My Lost soul, These tears are my Morse code. The pain seeing, Your own future foretold. and There's no "sustain" mode. Still hard to accept, That I failed though. While I die slow, The scars and open wounds, I can't show. I'm in the darkness, But I can't glow. I feel suffocated, There's not rain or sunlight, So I can't grow. Like a dried canal, I can't flow. I'm a prohibited space, Not even I can't go. Vain punishment? or Vain scold? Standing at Hell's gate In my hand, There's Heaven's scroll. Stranger in the dark texted my mom, It told her I'm not coming home. WHY?? She replied, I said because I'm running away from all the, PAIN I HOLD! THE SINS I MOLD! THE WRONGS I DID! THE GRIEF I SOLD! AND This suffering cry deep inside my soul. No sun too hot, No deep to cold. Famished, The crust of my lips crave for food of thought, and Thirst for a drink of gold. Yet much will stay unfold, Yet more will be untold. and Even when all is said and done, More will be forgotten, and little will be engraved in stone, Above the head of the lonely troll. For this lost soul, Much is borrowed, Verily, verily less is owed.
St_Samiel
Written by
St_Samiel
25/M/Enslaved abyss
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 9:55 AM UTC
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