Her eyes so full of wonder,
Perfect in every way.
The world around hers only blunder,
Is missing the slight decay.
...
Unmovable walls of white
Frightening in stature
Still in sight
Herolds of rapture
...
In the unseen eye of man,
Doeth unto the heart of the victor.
What we shall see,
For what the world will be.
...
I carry a beast with me.
Not in my hand or pocket,
But carefully concealed within a heart shaped locket.
...
The world is ending,
we are descending into a world of pretending
a world bare of communication
into what can be perceived as damnation
...
I hope for your input on my poems. I would like you to be as critical as possible because I wish to improve upon my writing. This is just one of the methods that I hope to improve myself with.)
Her Beauty
Her eyes so full of wonder,
Perfect in every way.
The world around hers only blunder,
Is missing the slight decay.
Her Beautiful hair,
Long and straight.
She is a maiden much to fare,
To have earned this fate.
She is falling
In a wicked drunken way
Left to cry sprawling
How can you say this is okay?
We stole life from life
Torn of a bleeding heart
We cut out her existence with a knife
Leaving her to fall apart.
She is nature,
It shocks me to think,
We do not see,
Her Beauty.
Life is ironic. You can't figure it out no matter what but you can't live without trying.
Ignite your soul with the passion of a thousand suns. Life isn't what is given, its what is made.