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Rapid rivers slow to a halt
And are slowly infected with beds of salt
Turning that which brought life
To something that withers and brings strife
Dry, deep-set eyes empty of love or tears
Look into them; see my soul in the darkest mirror
Taste the loathing, the pain, the wraith
Expect my forgiveness, and hope to sate
Broken limbs, twisted minds
Redefined mistrust, I stray from the kind
I rip through hearts, tear through tendons
Waiting for the light, the rising sun
In this eternal madness, I find no rest
I only live to fight, to prove I'm the best
Flesh dangles from my nails, blood streaking my mane
I kill what I see, and call myself ‘loves-bane'
I maim that which I cared about
Who else can walk carnage's route?
Dry, deep-set eyes empty of love or tears
Will you look into them?
And see my corrupted soul in the mirror
Timothy Weiermann
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, March 02, 2009 |
| Submitted Date |
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Monday, March 09, 2009 |
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Poets
