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It has been centuries.
While I have found pleasure in the work,
and have gained much skill through time,
I no longer get the satisfaction.
With every **** I make it gets easier and less fulfilling.
I am always searching for that perfect prey to give me what I want,
more than the things I need.

Eons pass and men fall before me.
Hopelessly bound by my love.
Rendered paralyzed by my gaze.
Wrestling internally with themselves to figure out if
I am real or only a dream.
If I am a goddess or a daemon.

Their blood is my life,
their love feeds my soul,
but they never last long;
can't hold up against the intensity of my existence.
They worship and bend and beg for my love,
and eventually they withdrawal or attack or run.
And that's when they are ended like so many before them,
and I begin the hunt anew, in search of another.

I grow tired, and wiser, and stronger,
but they never seem to change.
Mortal men are weak,
bound only to themselves and not built for eternity.
I eat their hearts and collect their souls.
Use their bones to build my armor
and that's all they're ever good for.

Their names drip like spells from my tongue,
and after centuries it seems my magic still isn't strong enough
to find a thing I cannot eventually destroy.
Thomas King Dec 2017
The Angel of Darkness
Hovers close overhead
I can feel his evil stare
Like an impending dread

Dark and foreboding
With fiery eyes
That can pierce a weaker man's heart
And fill it with lies

I feel the heat of his gaze
And smell the stench of his breath
Full of hatred and malevolence
And the promise of death

He patiently waits
To claim my soul as his own
And force me to pay homage
And bow to his throne

An eternity of suffering
Is promised to me
If I weaken my defenses
And allow this to be

But my heart is made pure
Because I pray to the light
And live a clean life
And try to do right

To this wondrous light,
I give devotion and love
And in return I am protected
From the darkness above

But sometimes the light can get hot
And burn like the sun
And trying to be perfect
Is sometimes not very fun

So on those bright days
I let my veneration fade
And seek out the darkness’ shadow
For just a little bit of shade
Bluebird Feb 2015
i layed in my room on my bed,
i only wished to die in my sleep
fallen appart,i was nearly dead
cause of a promisse i didn't keep.

i couldn't eat i couldn't talk,
i was hunted by my past,
barely having stenght to walk,
i've put my all to the test.

i couldn't smile with pain in my chests,
then came fears, i became paranoid,
followed by the darkest fleshbacks,
until the gap in heart became a void.

i fell as low as person can fall,
there was only up i could go,
missed the death, had to crawl,
decided never to let myself fall so low.

it's been a year i'm alright,
i still recover,my heart needs some rest,
i know my strenght and learning to fight,
a crule deamon called ''my past''.
true story

— The End —