Dark the thoughts that aid thy fall,
judged in courts that hang them all,
cardboard forts are wrecked by ball,
sense aborts and monsters call.
Deep the black that holds the hue,
demons track the fear in you,
theres a lack of passage through,
torture rack and thumbnail screw.
Harpies feast upon thy soul,
now a beast has took thy role,
care is least the Imps console,
time has ceased within this hole.
Comments
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Good job in keeping you language and metaphors consistant (excluding the cardboard fort bit). I enjoyed this very much. Very ancient darkness descibed, great stuff.
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Thanks...most appreciated.
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Wow,
Another sad piece that is too many's reality.. It is so sad to be in a hole, metaphorically, or physically. I hope things get better for you..or who you pen for.. Thanks for sharing, peace, -Timothy aka poeticweaver~
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