The Damned Poem by Troy Clark And Neal Simons
The Damned
When death grips a soul,
And the soul starts to flee,
I start to laugh with,
Relative glee,
Death is my way,
A long silent road,
With nothing to hide,
And nothing to show,
I made my city,
From the tortures I’ve held,
The screams of the innocent,
As they’re suddenly drown out,
The gurgling they make,
As there throats are ripped out,
The spewing of blood,
As there time runs out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 8:49:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Dude cool! Read Pity He That Still Remains. It's kinda like yours. D