Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
atlas-roverPoems
I am the child of faceless night, Born of a union of mere flesh. I am the bane of garish light, Born to voice a thousand cries. As the tyrannical sun sets, As the benevolent darkness takes over, I lend my ears to pleas of the mute, My footsteps swift and my movements light. Cloaked by deception, myth and legend, I am the faceless God of Death. Hidden by lies, tales and fables, I am the bearer of infinite names. In times of Eclipse, when order falls, When the avarice of a few prey on other lives, When Justice, the blind, mute and dumb wretch turns away it eyes, I don my mask, the son of chaos and fear. Although bards pen my tale as one of a hero's, I suffer no delusions, I know I am a psychopath. I am not a part of God's great plan, I am not an instrument of his divine will.I am the mere manifestation of human rage, Softened by the plight of my kin. All I know is that some men deserve to die, And much like Him, in whose image I was made,I feel powerful with each life I take. The thrill as my knife bleeds out the life in them, The rush which courses through my body as I remove these social tumors, Is far greater than the soft caress of lust. Thus, I'd **** only to stay alive.
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
The Faceless God
I am the child of faceless night, Born of a union of mere flesh. I am the bane of garish light, Born to voice a thousand cries. As the tyrannical sun sets, As the benevolent darkness takes over, I lend my ears to pleas of the mute, My footsteps swift and my movements light. Cloaked by deception, myth and legend, I am the faceless God of Death. Hidden by lies, tales and fables, I am the bearer of infinite names. In times of Eclipse, when order falls, When the avarice of a few prey on other lives, When Justice, the blind, mute and dumb wretch turns away it eyes, I don my mask, the son of chaos and fear. Although bards pen my tale as one of a hero's, I suffer no delusions, I know I am a psychopath. I am not a part of God's great plan, I am not an instrument of his divine will.I am the mere manifestation of human rage, Softened by the plight of my kin. All I know is that some men deserve to die, And much like Him, in whose image I was made,I feel powerful with each life I take. The thrill as my knife bleeds out the life in them, The rush which courses through my body as I remove these social tumors, Is far greater than the soft caress of lust. Thus, I'd **** only to stay alive.
atlas-rover
Written by
atlas-rover
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem