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She was pale--
So much so that it hurt to stare--
And her hair
Cascaded like a fluid curtain over her slim shoulders.
Her eyes
Were large and brought about memories of childhood wonder,
But with a darkness that sent a cold shiver down one's spine.
Her lips,
Seemingly the only part of her that was still alive and vital,
Were the color of overripe raspberries,
And as they peeled back one witnessed their doom...
Ancient (and, by that, I mean about 4-5 years old) poem that I dredged up from the deepest darkest regions of cyberspace from way back when. Really had no idea what to do with it or whether it was worth anything more than sentimental nostalgia, but here it is :-p
Between you and I: eternity,
An empty space that weighed a ton;
The silence howled like a banshee.
I had hoped that you might run--
Might sacrifice your dignity--
But you stood firm; what's done is done,
And we held tight our weaponry;
My grip was white around the gun.
We couldn't bring ourselves to see,
There there was only room for none;
That was the end of you and me.
They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The strips of flesh and ribbons of guts.
All the residual chunks of the screamers;
All the bits of the ******* and *****.

They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The memories of all that they said.
They crushed all the hopes of the dreamers,
So who cares that they ended up dead?

They flap in the breeze just like streamers:
The lingering shreds of remorse.
A legacy built atop skulls, ribs, and femurs;
A mission of evil I've come to enforce.

I, like mankind, have lost all control.
I now side with the sinners and schemers.
You ask of the tattered remains of my soul?
Why, they flap in the breeze just like streamers.
A little diddy 'bout a dark & demented anti-hero. Found myself contemplating a new comic book series as I jotted this. Let's see what comes of it ^_^
A tortured killer and his guilty victim strode into the ravine.
A single shot disturbed the calmness of their scene.
Now, both dead, a killer's slain and a victim's hands: unclean.
Just a little ditty inspired by my favorite poet, Stephen Crane.
It's like a holy war
When the masses march upon me.
The whole scene leaves me sore--
A hole seen by those who soar--
And, broken and bloodied,
I grin up at them and ask for more.

It's like a holy war,
And its when those holy *******--
A horde, a mass, of masochistic masters--
Hone on me like a holy task, there's
No greater sight for my eyes to see.
When they're still so certain;
Certain that the unholy one is me.

Twasn't me that drew this curtain,
And I ain't the one that's hurtin',
When they make their deals with devils.
See, it isn't standing up to rebels
When your convictions tremble;
It's your morals that need sortin'.

In this war of a devils against devil,
It won't be the youngbloods left to revel.

Come at me with your holy war--
I've fought before and demanded more--
But you'll come to find that what's in store
Will be far greater than what you're aiming for.

I don't see why you can't admit it:
That you've become demons, just like I did.
Yes, there's a darkness within me,
But, as the villain you want to see,
I'm afraid that I just can't take credit.
When the greatest sin that I've committed,
Was shedding light on all that you all did.
Been a while since I busted out anything new, so I figured I'd hit the scene with a bang (hello again, HelloPoetry <3 ). I've been writing a lot lately, so a lot of the rhythm here is inspired by some of my favorite J-rock & Visual Kei bands (the music that makes up my writing playlist) as well as the lyrical flow of rap/hip-hop (a genre I've found myself increasingly drawn to lately for whatever reason (I never fight these things  lol).

As is the case a lot of the time, this is hardly illustrating JUST a personal struggle, but offering some support to so many others who face a similar struggle of their own. To those in such a situation, this poem is for you, and let me remind you that you not only have strength in numbers, but your own untapped strength, as well.

I find myself--either for my religious or moral/ethical views or any other reason that people see fit--often targeted by a person or persons who see fit to villainize me, and I find myself growing suspicious that the only reason for this is so they can feel like the heroes when they take me down.
Sadly for them, I've yet to fall, and I wish the same strength and track record to those out there facing the same situation.
They told me to not go silently to that good night,
That I should never give in without giving a fight,
But I've bathed in the beams of the silver moonlight.
And I'm here to tell you that I went with the night.

It's not out weakness, nor desperation nor fright,
And I'm not here to tell you that it's not worth a fight,
But there's much worse monsters that occupy light;
Ones with far more malice, and a far sharper bite.

It's all about heart; not what's wrong or what's right.
You're judged by your merit and by your insight.
We're led by our spirits; we're not led by our sight,
We--all of us--who have joined with the night.

So slip free of your anchors. Let your true self take flight.
Shed away all regrets--you're held down by contrite--
And bask in all that represents your delight.
I come not with demands, you'll choose what is right,
But I'll confess to you now: I went with the night.
I was challenged to do a rhyming piece with a solid A-A scheme all the way through.
Nailed it! :-p
Bed
Want to get in bed
Drown my head
Shut the lights off
Feel my bones
Becoming more visible
Open the drawer
Eyes on the blade
House dark
Eyes closed
Solid and still
My demons fill the room
My nocturnal evil friends
Awaken the night
Bleeding high
Off the ground
Now i can
Clear my head
Close my dark eyes
Dream of happiness
In my head
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