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the innocence bore hate
written by Krakenphonic12:39 AM 12/9/04Honesty is the hardest thing to come by now a days.
Wishes are too frequent, and they are usless as a midnight phase.
People who hurt, and people who die,
It happens a lot, with no knowledge why.
What goes on your head, is a cloud of hate, and impure lie.
this effect is worse when you are a guy.
the time of truth is nigh,
and you must let it out with a breif sigh.
Inside my head is war, between chaos and war, and peace and harmony.
I hated all, from my father to my dog conney.
Twisted with reflections of evil and love,
My heart and mind were shattered and my on which is above.
Now I am cursed with the fates of two minds in one
and alter ego come and gone.
Truth and justice gets all,
with chaos and evil, you will fall.
A mix of both is good,
a red mage, goin down the hood.
SO I bid you luck, and a wish as well,
as you can tell, I am a cleric, born in hell.
I was made to live on and rise up,
but I am made to seem like my life was a mere hiccup.
Fire and crystal rage my temple of stone,
my feelings once lost, must once again be shone.
If honesty not, than what have you got?
no friends no family, no truth and no justice-
I guess you live, in hurt, as you say, **** THIS!
Those in hurt and those in need,
are the ones who will out live the human greed.
souls and thought,
a mere imaginitive thing sought.
If you are battered and raped,
than you need to be honest, but with a drape.
Hide your self, and you emotions renew,
the life you seek, there is only one way through.
War without peace, and peace without war,
these are things some men adore.
though impossible to have,
people die every day, and people get oh so grave,
but only if they know the human that died that day,
oh so sad, only because the were one they could not save.
to save the world, is to ahhniolate the human race-
but keep in mind, if that were to happen, keep the pace.
the river of time, is likely to repeat it self.
A world with no beggining and a place with no end-
that is one place that had to the dead, send.
A new world is beginning, the war against mankind has started
the afraid, have darted,
and the the intelligent, destroyed.
and now only the ones in pain run around in the void.
to become immortal is to be dead,
and after that happens, your god will have your head.
this new world has no morals, only worries
goths are the ones who are meant to live, they live with hurt pain and sorrows
yet they are graced with minds, and artistic talents.
these men and women are of the top valients.
A true goth is hurt to a dead self,
and when the desires of a destroyed world is true, than the soul will come off the shelf
I bd you a wish, with honesty- If you give it, you will have been given back.
no matter how strange it sounds, and so hard to hack,
the real of life has been destroyed,
and now the rest of eternity seems void.
but alas one had lived through death,
and this damned man will lead an army, through the world and create a new.
no hate and no irrationality. the damned step up, and show those punks,
and now, the goth nation rises once a gain. ah this is part of the funks-
Use fire to fight fire, and evil to fight evil.
but good helps in the battle against evil,
but it almost always prevails, but never for good.
Holy Versus evil- they both live on, but so does humanity-
with different sets of morals-
He will put them to singluar from the pluarals
everything dies in the end.
but with that hate there is a thing to mend.
and each ment and cut only makes you stronger-
remember- if you are hurt or in pain-
you have nothing to lose, only to gain.
Trust, is non existant in my world of fear and agony.
Blood is my sex. I disdane skin,
relations are a hinderence, and as is love-
I fear that i may take it to the glove.
Darkness is my virtue.
I think from the sight of the sun I need a tissue.
I loved once, then my heart, which was enough to give, but not to take-
I must now live the world as a fake.
when honesty and trust rises in the world,
I will repel my own hoard.
death to people
and life to sepple.
I am a cleric of death, and the makers of souls. |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
wether the opionions be of light or darkness, post them, and be granted a wish. but dont be saying I wish for a million bucks- it doesnt work that way. I posted this out of my outlook on the world. I see its death, and past. A person who forecasts life has no future, only past.
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