What a horrendous wreck of an existence,
how can you live such a life so feeble;
so thin and unwanted by everyone.
A rose torn of pettles and left with thorns,
under moonlit skies of ebony and grey,
a rose previously white and glowing,
tainted and disdained by a lust for blood,
a cruel addiction to wreck your soul.
Your life grows torn at the edges,
unable to move, unable to stand still,
you are left alone in your tomb to sit,
and rot in the world that turns you away,
the love that rejected you and broke your soul,
that made you what you are;a monster,
in the body of a man with the clockwork of a demon.
You are decending;
Falling from the gravestones that remind you,
of what you were and what you have become,
you are nothing to anyone,
you are worthless and need to burn in hell,
the fallen angel you are,
can suffer this horrible fate of eternity,
now i know who you are,
or perhaps i have always known,
now i know;
it is me breaking the mirror,
as it laughs at me.
A contest entry
- Titles and Lines-Pick One... by Lady Disdain.
500 points, ended August 17, 2007, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
That was beautiful! it sounded external, even though it was internal, like you were really speaking to someone else. facing your own demon. I LOVED it!
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wow i know what you mean here. i have thought this so many times, infact i have looked in a mirror and hate the reflection staring back at me, and the monster that stares back at me and rejrect what i've done. I can really relate to this poem.
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