| » Poem: Blood soaked clovers |
Blood soaked clovers
written by Genocide Reaper05:27 AM 11/1/04| I, never asked why, you left when you did. I, guess I never even cared. Just leave me alone, maybe I'll turn into stone, and I will become a creature of the unknown. I, don't really know if I could try. I, wonder some times if I killed you. I, dig in the garden every single day. Seperateing graves again. Then, the memories ressurect the light. Now the soils covered in blood and clovers. I, sit in an empty house, all alone, watching the clock tick time by. I, know why you never came back, and when you did, it was just in nightmares. I'm behind, the little travisties again. Blood soaked clovers. Blood soaked clovers... Blood soaked clovers...*whispers* Blood soaked clovers....Blood in the garden. Everyones dead, just a picture of their faces locked in my HEAD! I tried and tried to understand, but they just couldn't lend a helping hand! Over and over we continue, turning the tables just for the show. But when I was digging the graves, I couldn't help, but feel, I made them Demon slaves......Count down to reckoning....Image an army rushing the front line, drums beating like mad, imagine a simple tie, to the strict warfare of life. Falling forever in sin, I look down, I see the blood, I'm dripping again. The number one way is a way to die, but in the end, you find out, that Holy savior shit was just a lie! Do you feel me? I'm trying to help you see me! Dramatic bitch, I'm glad when you were hanging on the edge you were outta my reach! Do see this? I want you to this! I am a great serial killer! untouchable! irriversable. I'm glad your sad! Can you hear them? The drums that keep echoing around the house, its haunted, I guess this lesson that I taught you, finally paid itself in full. But into hell, you were pulled, and into Hate, I was bled. I'm the insane one, can you see me? or anything Iv done? Now see this I need you to see this! now fucking feel this! I need you to! Now just pull the skeleton through. I am the greatest serial killer alive! Manson! I'm a number higher than you! my kill count exceeds the Ripper in whores and toys! Now bow down, commply, to my will, you will not deny, your soul, I will ocupy, your body, I will bury, my thirst for blood I will satisfy. I'll get you, you will find yourself, hanging by nails, wrist bleeding, head acheing, your body I will crucify. Then you'll be buried in the garden.. and I can say with a pleased hard working smile....Blood soaked soil. Grave growing over with clovers. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
Murdered his girlfriend, then moved on to everyone else...Buried them in the garden if you hadn't noticed.
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| » Comments / Feedback | by ForgottenChild67 (11-1-2004 - 06:14 AM)
| WOW we must talk someday you seem to have an awesome talent for writing*hands you a black rose,kisses your cheek,and fades into the shadows* |
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