Cold
Dead
Unable to speak
Unable to breathe
Trapped in his self-made tomb
Forevermore bound in chains
He sighs softly
Unsettling the dust in his lungs
That haven't breathed for centuries
His sorrow is her bliss
His fear, her strength
His pain, her ecstasy
He sacrificed his soul to ensure hers would live on
Her true friend
Her guardian angel
Through all his misery, still he smiles
Knowing that his suffering protects the one he loves,
The real angel,
That could bring a beast of a man to his knees
With one innocent kiss.
A contest entry
- Neurotically Dead--x by Atrophya.
600 points, ended February 2, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Love - almost any thing goes by Mujina.
450 points, ended February 12, 2008, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
-
Very very nice.... this poem just blew me away thank you for entering.
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