We linger on the cold wind, with nothing more than understanding
no words are said and yet the moonlight shines harshly upon us
as if blinding, and with a plot of death
no complaints, no truths,
eyes tell nothing, but deep black spite
we alternate moving over random body parts
as if we were reading brail
but I guess we mean nothing
since there is actually nothing to read
I see the spawn of the devil in your heart
I mouth onto him, partly hoping it is felt
and partly hoping he had no idea what I meant
we all spin in an empty shell
rattling the edges of our concave cage
the moonlight is the spotlight
for our hate, a deathly
massacre for our souls,
congratulations lover we committed homicide...
its illegal
but we are both gone
so we can't be condemed
now, let our graves lay simply under the spotlight which we betrayed,
While Lingering On The Cold Spiteful Wind
Author notes
Dark Poetry.
If you don't feel it makes sense. its fine with me, its not really meant to be perfectly understandable. its kind of like, find a meaning within your heart, because maybe somewhere out there it means something to someone other than me.
A contest entry
- Battle Of The Muse. Fighting With Ink: {ROUND ONE} by PerfectImperfection.
900 points, ended June 20, 2007, 26 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Dark, yet beautiful and terrifying; you have a way of making it all sound so real. Although I feel some of your ideas could have been compressed to give a shorter, more concentrated piece. Just my opinion.
Thanks for entering.
DancingRed.
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I could certainly feel the depth of the blow here, and that it is, indeed, a very personal piece of inner revelation. Nice imagery and unique descriptives woven within the lines. Thank you for your entry & Best wishes in the contest!
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<3 love.
I really like it. slash it's sad. -
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lol thanks???
uhh, I was ranting, it has nothing to do with my current state. maybe it did at the time..no I don't think so..ehhh whatever, thankyou jen!
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