----- Salvation ----- Somewhere in this faded world, Where souls are grey and fray, Covered in cobwebs with dying monarch butterflies, The two of us are the same. Alive, but not quite, Far apart yet close, Tied together by a timeworn thin thread, The color crimson rose. When the world grows thorns and vines, With Lillith's children sprawling around, Rusty, drab, is God's holy crown, The age is new and divine. Desperate for sanity, We grab at what we find, Our race has crumbled into rubble, No longer profane and refine. Always in hiding, begging to God, For salvation or a clue, As to where the answer lies, Beneath a bed of vivid blue. Tainted red, With our blood, I dare not reach inside. For what lies beneath the sea, Is the grotesque and macabre truth. ----- Bittersweet Goodbye ----- Painted crimson red, In the garden of the Queen's, Is a patch of tainted roses, From God's ruthless killing machine. I compare thou art, To my room, Splayed with white hot blood. The razor in my hand, Is causing it to flood. Red tears silently fall, As I stand silent and tall. Droplets of liquid silently drop, Onto to the mahogany floor. I chose the easy way out, Like a coward with no pride, Yet my wrath cannot be unleashed, To a world so profane and naïve. Too indulged in my fears, My pride will not give, In my mind, Clockwork gears, Believe that this is my last day to live. Twilight goes, The only passion that blooms, Is my rage, hatred and pain. When I die, I curse you all, And shall bring you to my doom. And when salvation comes, I shall release my wrath upon you. ----- Clockwork Angel ----- The clockwork angel, Silently ticks, The pendulum swings, With perfect rhythm. With my hand, I silently flick, The brass wings of the machine, My eyes full of awe. The contraption moves, I hear continuous clicks, I wonder what's going on, With this precious keepsake... The gears stop turning, No more tricks, As if dead, It is not moving. The sheets of metal, Is so thick, That it cuts my flesh with razor sharp wings. So innocent it may seem, Until the blood trickles from the tiny prick. Deceiving with its looks, Yet mischievous in nature, Is my wonderful contraption, My dear Clockwork Angel. ----- Damnation ----- The lies the priest spews, He calls it holy gospel. Yet in my eyes, 'tis only foolish drabble. So profane, Far from truth, It's only your delusion... Hell's flames are infernal, Forever burning, Forever raging, 'Tis is eternal. Lillith's children freely roam, Around the premises of hell. Hollowed grounds, The prey may hide, Yet demons shall always find. Their cries of anguish, Awaken chaos, The cool façades, Will slowly melt, Draining into inferno. ----- Endeavor ----- The lovers' quarrel, will not end, Strife will fill their cup of wine, As they drink their bitter words, And meet their own bitter ends. Is she foe, or a friend? Or a lover from before? Is it worth to cause such pain, To fill your passion with disdain? You do not care, You only strain, You drive her with repulsive words, Away she runs, away! Days without anger, Left you cold, Empty and dead. The dark void, Soon begins to spread, As your conscience is once again revived. You contemplate on what was said, Was this fate's plan for you? You lost it all, All that is, Worth a thousand words. You tie the noose, Around your neck, As you softly begin to cry, Decisions wrongly made, Brought you to your demise! You achieved what you wanted, But was it even worth it? ----- Meh. Feel free to post your own.
I hide behind a mask My fear not showing Dark shadows all around me I hate not knowing All the lies I've told My life is a fake My soul being tortured I fear I wont wake When I think it's over It will only just begin This life is a game But I just cant win I am always paranoid I can't trust anyone I don't know if I can handle it I want to be done I'm sorry if you think this is to dark, but I really like it a lot. Chloe, you are amazing my darling. I just love these poems. They really speak to me. They are one of the only things left in society that's not fake.
Thank you. :0 Inspiration to poetry doesn't come lightly... It's really refreshing to see fellow authors focus on poetry sometimes. Writing poems actually help you channel your anger... It's a beautiful way to speak up. It's also a method to find inspiration. :3
The darkness. ._. Like the concealed truth. The truth nobody's bothering to find out, the one where nobody gives a damn about it, living their lives as a lie, too naïve to notice the cruelties of this world as they go on skipping and creating merryment. ._. it's something dark. .-. Your emotion, a passion burning. Either hatred, jealousy... Any type of emotion that you feel is too strong for you to control. That, is inspiration. .-.
Can you write some more poems? They really help me release my anger, because they are so beautiful, and yet so...dark.
I agree they are a good way to deal with anger I have a great many but they will never be seen or see the light of day because of the darkness in them it's just to extreme