The restlessness
Of burning sadness
Pierces my body
A million-million times
And then… does not stop.
A relentless desire
To smite that which plagues me
With little more than my lustful blade
Clings to my chest
As a parasite clings to its host.
A fine and pleasant night it be
When the raptures of death
Finds their due course,
In one long and blissful night,
And become me.
Oh kind and merciful death,
Find me and take me away
From this cruel and unwavering life
That brings so much misery into mine
So that I might again breathe freely.
Until that night of deadly rapture
When all the pains of life depart
And all the burning ceases to char
And the parasite has had its fill,
Poetry shall be my new blade.
This sword, which I have fashioned
And branded and polished well
Shall remain forever unsheathed,
To fight the strife of life;
‘Else that night I die.
Author notes
Here's and example of some of my darker works.
A contest entry
- The Pain Before The Healing {Now Open To Prewrites} by Viyanna Rosemarie.
800 points, ended May 8, 2007, 14 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This sword, which I have fashioned
And branded and polished well
Shall remain forever unsheathed,
To fight the strife of life;
‘Else that night I die.
awesome that you have the will to fight. thank you for sharing this with me and i wish you the best of luck in this contest. viyanna rosemarie
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