Ace Of Black Hearts
The Blood Is Still Not Mine
I'm not so incredible, I'm not even so remarkable.
An old wolf no long able to catch its prey.
A leader going grey.
But sure, okay, you feel like I'm the best thing you ever met.
But don't fret this is only a dream.
You'll wake up tomorrow and disconnect.
A clean reboot.
Understanding that in this land of make believe I can say anything I want to.
Loving a man of fiction.
What if I'm your sick and demented half sister?
Got to love the back end of a ruffled goose.
See with these words I can really do as I please.
Portraying a serial killer, and the hero that bends him to his knees.
Does evil or good ever win?
What does happen at the end?
Trying so hard to find the madness of reason.
Buying hope as a spice and season.
But the flavor doesn't make this meal anymore satisfying.
An empty desperate plea, please somebody love me.
But how could that ever be without the sense of touch.
An absence of so much.
I feel like a soulless demon that continuously crushes.
A factory of mashing.
The blood is always splashing.
And for some reason it is never mine.
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Comments about this poem (The Blood Is Still Not Mine by Ace Of Black Hearts )
- an act, Billie Lynn Minear
- engulfed in your flesh, Billie Lynn Minear
- recyclops, ramon lvdiaz
- Ideal or Real, immanuel santos
- clear as mud, Mandolyn ...
- Burma war, lee fones
- Nexus in open, hasmukh amathalal
- There are veins of gold embedded, Little Eagle McGowan
- Yours Desire for High Sky, Aftab Alam
- Oh, The Cautious Heart, Dorothy (Alves) Holmes
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