Cold.
Alone.
Dark.
Loneliness laughs as he tortures his next victim
in the abyss as they silently scream,
chaining them with fear and despair, his minions.
Death would seem an angel.
Their torturous voices lie, wanting you to give up,
Demons that would rather see you dead,
Than influencing your world.
Come! Take my hand;
We'll break the chains together,
conquer the lies of Loneliness
and bury the monster in his own lair!
Because hope and life, my friend, are worth it all.
A contest entry
- On the Ledge... by Backporchphilosopher.
600 points, ended July 30, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Perfect
wonderful write poet. simply wonderful.
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