Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I pray to my Lord; as the prey in this crazy
world, dressed in sheep's clothing of all
those wolves.
All lurking around with no good.

Shepherd guide me; I don't always know
where to go. Staff of mercy; disciplines hurt
of the rod, but keeps me on my track to God.

Teeth marks; and ****** holes in my leg,
went chasing on greener pastures. But instead;
I was caught down on my defence.
Wolves only see red; as they have their prey out as
a spread.

The prey prays not to be prey; by the longest
prayer of all the sheep's prayers.

Carlo C Gomez Mar 25
jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
like tumbling autumn leaves
ever and always
on the steps of a country house.
always and ever
just outside the aix-les-bains dance hall.
his blousy new bride
and her old lover
aware of his sympathies and
  the danger he presents to them.

jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
ever and always
on a deserted alpine road.
always and ever
one trail of blood,
remnant of the preyed upon.
she screams against the glass,
quiet devil in the backseat
haunted by the disorder
  of his own mind.

eyes opened to
his own mutability.
alienation is immanent,
bred in the bone.
a desperate need for gravitas,
built upon vaporous credulity.
and she is pursued through the woods
ever and always,
through iridescent fields
always and ever,
until finally in his crosshairs
  she falls.

those like him have not suddenly
vanished from the earth, but
  are merely lying in wait.
MuseumofSoph Nov 2021
I saw a little car today
zooming past my window

It was so small
yet it moved so quickly; unafraid

a bigger car approached it
swerving just before the crash

but there it stood resilient
waiting for its turn to go

and all I could think was:
how do I be more like that?
Sonorant Jul 2021
Little lamb, lone in the brush
Without a mother’s feed.
Who is to groom the gloss
Of her delicate clothing?

Little lamb, who sings to me,
Unlettered melodies,
Why does she wag forth
These eyes of rust—
In pensive gloat ache
Sipped sinews of her throat?

Little Lamb, bleating to bleed,
Ventures frail, tender limbs
Deep within Tophet’s Vale.
Meek, she slips in buried sheets.

Little Lamb, orchid chewed to root
Bask and bathe the moon
Twixt her thighs.
Splayed upon pastures
Nourished with tears.

Wine spilled into the milk of being.
She drinks the rich grain.
DET Jun 2021
As the world seeks for a prey
Myself hath acknowledged I will become the next target!
So, myself must ignite the fire
Rather is among the roars of the thunder
The fire must shimmer all my foes...
If any predators dare strive to demolished
My serenity...
Then no mercy...
Will be granted...
For I will be no ones prey....
If merely my foes knew...
The rage hath drove me insane...
So, dare not mark me as the next prey!
Cause not even death makes me shiver...
Copyright © 2021 D.E.T All Rights Reserved
LC Apr 2021
it climbs up their thin veins,
worming its way under their skin,
until it digs into their vulnerable minds,
controlling them from the inside out,
until they twist the life out of others.
the prey become the predators.
#escapril day 17!
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, so grateful for all this overwhelming support--this motivates me to write even more--never thought people would even indulge what I write--thank you all so much <:<:<:<:<:


again you haunt again you prey

target my dreams on hopes of disarray

you know what that I like

seem to shield my tears from nights

drunk on a hell I feel I pleasurably delight

but what I don't

that biting hungover on the following bright


                                                                                     ------ravenfeels
Next page