| » Poem: By whom she was bled |
By whom she was bled
written by Genocide Reaper09:58 AM 2/27/05Reading over the scriptures of old.
Bleeding onto the stone that is cold.
Feeling this wave over come me.
It brings me to terms with the beast.
I am in the dark forest following the Tigers footsteps.
The guide of a warrior has come to show me the trail home.
Blood is in the path.
Something has felt natures wrath.
Kill or be killed.
Eat or be eaten.
So is life.
So is strife.
Carry with you your weapon, even if it is just a knife.
In these brutal times.
There are constant fights.
Pleading with the soul inside.
Bleeding with the warrior drinking his wine.
Frigid chills running up and down my spine.
Feeling the sense of shadows surround me.
The problem within pines.
Writhing in its own agony.
Combing over the clues in the air.
I can smell the scent of a vampires hair.
Her draping silhouette haunting me.
I would love to taste her wicked purity.
Evidence shows, she is stalking me.
Proof to the pile.
Time for her to acknowledge the reason of my exile.
To bleed, her as I speak of my creed.
For this is fair, to get what I want, as she is fed.
And freed from the web of lies in which her sire placed her.
No tears I expect to be shed.
But she will remember by whom she was bled. |
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This Poem has been viewed 414 times
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| » Comments / Feedback | by maledeth (2-28-2005 - 07:59 AM)
| I love it....let the countess know true pride, and bleed her dry from vaginal skins, man. |
by Misery (2-28-2005 - 08:40 PM)
| A demented little boy whose poetry amuses and intrigues me. I like this one, I'm borrowing it in my profile. |
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