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His lips are not of sinners
yet the taste is slowly turning bitter.
Hell is here and I fear my love for him.
Kisses are getting *****;
with a tint of innocence, however quirky.
But he has a pure soul and a fine mind.
There’s fire all over in this,
and he’s seeking peace.
I want to calm him with the blood running in my veins;
vigilant enough to burn him with my flames.
He likes speaking in between breaths.
I like making him shut in breaks.
My words are less to describe his eyes,
delightful and dangerous at the same time.
He is aware of the strength in my arms,
I’m sure of making him melt in them.
Magic in wild and colors in life,
makes him want the dark more.
He has a heart of a King,
still demands demon wings!
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
LC Apr 19
a statue quietly lurks
in the corner of my mind,
waiting until all is calm.
when the dark shroud
falls over the blue sky,
the statue comes to life
as a vicious, fang-bearing,
red-eyed, gnarly demon.
the demon pulls a dream apart
with its long, pointy claws,
injecting the shreds with poison
until they tangle up in each other
to become a tight, infectious knot
that can only be waking up.
#escapril day 18!
Äŧül Apr 17
First was a demo.
Second was a desire.
Third was a demon.
Fourth was a disappointment.
Fifth was a liar.
Sixth was someone who lost me.
Seventh was a charlatan.
Eighth was a Succubus.
But nineth is a different Angel,
My Angel.
My HP Poem #1925
©Atul Kaushal
Payton Feb 24
Red hair fell like fire
on her thin shoulders.
Her wide, open eyes, now
seemed sunken in, and sadness,
for a moment, lingered there.
This was her last night on earth.
She again, ran through the events
that took place earlier that night.
When she was with him, in the back
of the Impala.
Images of the car's windows glossed with a
sheen of steam, blazed across her mind.
A smile blazed across her face.
She thought of his smile and her own widened.
She thought of the way he touched her, so gently,
like a feather moving over her. The way he left kisses
in a trail across her skin. The way he held her, as if
nothing on the earth could ever take her away.
Not in that moment.
But there are more than the kind
and protecting angels in this world. There are
demons. But even so, worse are the angels that
have turned their backs on heaven and now
work for the forces of evil.
The angels that would tear their comrades
from this world.
The angels

Black as dark as night.
Black as dark as the inner
reaches of the earth.
Black as dark as death itself.
Black like blood.
Red as deep as warm, copper veins.
Red as deep as magma beneath
the earth.
Red as deep as rage at the sign
of betrayal.
Red like smoke.
Splashes of agony and hatred and
remorse stained his tattered soul.
A true evil radiated from his
vessel. A crafty and
malicious essence raced through his veins.
But he was no Lucifer.
Somewhere, deep down,
there was still a man who
longed to be loved. A man
who longed to be forgiven of his cruel
mistakes in his past life. Deep down, there
was still a man who longed to come back to
the light.
In a world so dark as his, the only light was the fire,
which should have brought comfort, but only
brought pain.
Deep down, he liked the dark.

Hair like threads of spun gold
tangled around her face. She was fair with
bright blue eyes that held
hues as heavenly as the sun-beaten
Soft, angular cheekbones sloped gently
down, a tinge of pink, coloring them slightly.
Locks of her wavy hair met her shoulders
but beneath her fair
appearance, she was a
rough girl.
A hunter.
She had seen things most terrible in the world,
thinks that no one should ever see.
And still, he remained a
loving mother and a kind person
in spite of
her demons.

Echoes of a former friend
rang throughout his
conscious mind.
Mischievous and
sinister laughter danced
around in his head like demons
howling and gibbering in
the night.
He could feel his brother's presence
and the angel too,
but felt only more unnerved
because he knew he was the
only one who could hear the voices.
Another shrill scream pierced
his ears and he ducked, holding
his head between two shaking palms.
Bright flashes of color exploded at
the corners of his vision and danced
around his eyes like a psychedelic
He went spiraling again in his mind and
every color blinked out, like a light.
Everything went dark as the psychotic laughter
echoed throughout

Over the hill moved a creature, round and
Glowing with a cold, white light.
Like a spectacular
It had hundreds and hundreds of
Eyes in every imaginable color, faceted
Like jewels that covered wheels within wheels of
It’s spherical body.
It was an infinite series of intersecting
Rings that spun constantly in
All directions.
Like a gyroscope.
The rings looked like steel but
The substance was
Pearlescent and, like an oil slick,
Contained all of the rainbow within it.
Steel-like whips caressed the ground
And skies as it moved.
And at its center stood two
Wings, upright.
Feathers made from the metallic
Material rippled in the air. Around the wings pooled a
Sticky, warm light. A sheen of phosphorescent light coated the
Feathers and pooled around the wings.

Through the windshield, the soft
glow of a solitary streetlight glistened
over his cheekbones
and poured down
his jaw that had grown taught from
rapt contemplation.
His coarse, sandy-brown hair, was messed
from his last tango with a monster.
Brilliant flecks of gold danced around in
his hazel eyes,
entwining with years of past remorse and
echoes of both sad and happy memories of
being on the road.
He kept a firm hold of the wheel, gently guiding the
old muscle car down the road.
Tears prickled behind his gorgeous, tired eyes,
but didn't dare escape.  The plastic army
soldier stared him down, but he
could pay him little mind.
His brother, riding shotgun, slept
sitting upright, his long, chocolate locks
covering his eyes as he dreamt with
his forehead
against the cool window.

A luminescent beauty radiated from him.
Behind his tattered vessel's eyes, a blazing
light shined like a beacon in the night.
The fury of a thousand suns, and
the beauty of a million moons.
The bright and morning star.
The most magnificent in all of the angels,
yet far more dark than any demon.
Sinfully exquisite.
Those who say he has horns have never
looked upon his countenance, for the gems
faceted there rival the colors of the morning skies.
And a voice like silk, soft as the
timid pulse,
a voice that could lead you to your own destruction.
Hands both so gelid and searing, you'd quiver
at the touch.
Hands that have brought so many to their death.
These poems were written in 2016. They were inspired by the characters of the widely popular CW Series, Supernatural.
Deep Jan 13
I'm fighting a war in my head,
Plant few armed forces there too
So that they can separate the demons
Afflicting me...
Ahmad Attr Jan 10
I wake up in a burnt corn field
In my hand is a lantern
I held my shaking hand straight
Ambling slowly to get of here
Finally I see a light alluring me near
It is my house and the room is lit
Coming towards the window a silhouette appears
A tall man with horns on head, maybe, it’s just too unclear
I sense the aura of power, malfeasance and vanity from him
the only thing I feel from me is fear
But my feet keep walking towards him
Like a moth to a light
And I hear his demonically enchanting voice
He whispers
‘’What does it feel like to be touched?
What does it feel like to taste the meat?
What does it feel like to look fair?
What does it feel like to dance on your feet?
Giveth thy body to me
And thou shall regain the desired beauty and youth
shall thy worry of expiry be gone
together we shall rule’’
I shout ‘’No’’, ‘’Never’’
I feel the wrath taking over my body and crushing me
I open my eyes from this terrible dream
Lying on my side with neon red clock in front of me
I feel his hands around my neck choking me
Cold, strong hands suffocating me
I try to fight but I can’t
I try to raise my voice but I can’t
My body doesn’t move
My eyes don’t close
It is my time to go, resisting is of no use
But soon I was let go of
I was given a second chance
Either by god
or the unholy lord
A sleep paralysis experience
Beseeching words
genuinely rooted from
the wounded, rotten heart

to the cold, thin air of
"I have nothing left to say---"
Thank you for putting up with me. For teaching me to make peace with my demon; not to get rid of it.
KAE Jan 5
“If you are mean with me, I’ll be meaner with you”
When you do something “wrong” or the evilest thing towards someone, they take revenge of that
Instead of take advantage of that situation and person and trying to be better than those, than them.
They need, they have the desire to be more devilish.

It’s pathetic. Mediocre.

People seem to be angels, the purest souls. Even the ones who are good human beings.
But we all have a demon burning inside of us, yelling to escape, to be free.
But that chaos which people have is major.
They sell you an angelical aura, the best moral, and the darkness inside of them is unexpected.
Even the one who can be “an angel” is and could be the malevolent ******.
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