crushed
the broken soul
struggles
a pinioned bird without wing
fretful heartbeats spring
unsung
to wither sour
upon the tongue
... unheard
Mors
rules the Holy Grovelands
welcoming the damned
taking as his right the proffered hand
Chaos
reigns heavily upon the lost
manipulating masses in the mists of the dumb
where souls are tossed
beneath blackened skies
devoid of sun
they wait ...
hope weakening
fails to rise
exsistance seen through fractured eyes
they listen ...
until hope becomes a dimming thought
echoed by a dying swan
(i don't belong ... i don't belong)
... living mocks
their will is done
and all is naught
A contest entry
- oh, to just disappear... by CarCrashHumor.
1500 points, ended August 15, 2007, 48 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
"... until hope becomes a dimming thought
echoed by a dying swan
sung for all eternity"
the format you used was effective.
nice write.
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