Angel and Demon
morphed in one body.
Singed feathers floating softly
and bloody extremities:
the featherless wings of perfection.
Feel the fire burn as blackness takes your vision
and blade takes your tongue...
Forget your prayers
they are no help for your soul
and as the wingless cower
under my featherless glory
you will know the true meaning of hopeless.
Succumb, don't fight it...
we are all eager for a feast.
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Hi, my name is Benjamin... i started writing less than a year ago when i started writing short stories... other than that i really dont know what to say... ill tell you if i dont like something with your poem and i hate people who cant take critisizm. i love talking about anything... especially poetry, so just message me if you wanna chat
morphed in one body.
Singed feathers floating softly
and bloody extremities:
the featherless wings of perfection.
Feel the fire burn as blackness takes your vision
and blade takes your tongue...
Forget your prayers
they are no help for your soul
and as the wingless cower
under my featherless glory
you will know the true meaning of hopeless.
Succumb, don't fight it...
we are all eager for a feast.
______________________________________________________________
Hi, my name is Benjamin... i started writing less than a year ago when i started writing short stories... other than that i really dont know what to say... ill tell you if i dont like something with your poem and i hate people who cant take critisizm. i love talking about anything... especially poetry, so just message me if you wanna chat
- Last seen 1 day ago. Member since March 6.
- I'm a carnelian hope poet for 125 comments.
- My mood is
, and quote is "Can't you smell the laughter?". - I am a 16 year old guy from Texas (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm writing.
- I have 125 comments, 3 contests, 77 poems, 1 journal
Poems I'm focused on
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Rhythm within verse to bring sweet tears
Silent script breeds death to my fears39 lines, 5 comments, August 7 -
But that’s what we do, isn’t it? Kiss, kill, goodbye, repeat as needed. And there you have it, recipe for broken love and a lost heart, or4 lines, 2 comments, July 6
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Sleep, my love, in the white linen embrace
Of the dark cushioned bed, covered in lace.11 lines, 9 comments, July 1
My Poetry
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It's not like it's in cold blood. We're all sinners, every last wrtetched one of us, so why pretend to be anything else? Why try and rise above the evolutionary precedant given to us Hell-bound to bear? Yes, i believe in hell23 lines, 18 comments, October 4
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Marked from birth, the girl plucks the strings
Creating sweet chords and melodies40 lines, 5 comments, September 14 -
Bleeding black mascara holds no poetry
And twisted hearts know only demonology and heartache.24 lines, August 23
My journal entries
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The field was broken by a dirt road running straight through and ending in a stone bridge. The road would continue on the other side (as roads tend to do) if it not were for a barricade made of heaped dirt that was obviously taken from the area in front of it. Along the dirt barricade was a line of gunman, the oAugust 7, In Story. 2,800 words. → Make first comment?
Guest Book
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