Reflection Of Polluted Art
SEEMIGLY THE DARK REFLECTS THE INNER LAYER OF THE LIGHT
Dead living off this secret pain
Dead living off this painted hate
Tears are soul embedded
Contrast of obsidian fire describes a painters brushed off
Sequence.
Crucified soul, emptied heart
Weaponed mind preaching days of my last
I dress darkness on my summoned inked black.
Outside I acknowledge freedom inside I possess imprisonment.
Sleep is ephemeral suicide
Love portioned heavenly
Death an odor of immortality
I spread wings of an eagle
I take losses like lucifer.
I'm abandoned by the ones that held me close
We were from the same Aeon.
Our hearts measured by the levels of love we encounter.
I spit on the devils fire
I'm one of his own whenever the light is running late.
With a heart weight of a casket every good memory is grieve.
Wishing I never had eyes...
All these tears give confirmation to the ones that hurt Me.
About the Creator
Irvin
Exceptionally artistic when it comes to poetry, my undying passion for it for keeps me writing like always.
A Love Forboding
The chipped stone slope caused unbearable footing. I slid, skirting on my heels. I cast my shield, relinquishing my guard to stay upright. Left with my double-edge and a prayer to the maker, I skated toward my objective. The earthly stubble gave way to solid ground. I found myself restored, a trail of dust in my wake.
By James U. Rizzi6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Sleep is ephemeral suicide. I especially loved that line!