Strydar Enox Poems

Thumping sounds invade my mind,
I'm lost with no record of where to find.
The savage beats my mind retreats only to be thrown again.
A savage swipe on my upper right as the pain grows and grows.
...

The plague came today,
swift and unceasing,
the rats and vermin ming'ling while feasting
upon the corpses that clog the way.
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Fluttering the wings have caste.
O're the land the butterflies swarm.
Mountains they conquer, forests they feast;
Delicious nectar they fly to seek.
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Quicken the Winds; Faster he spins.
Death and Destruction he Spirals within.
Rage is his Power, its sorrow disaster.
And yet his eye continues to spin.
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From days to nights from nights to days;
Life diminishes no more games.
The Rain has been falling the skies have turned black.
tears once spouted now shed with blood.
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Quicker the beats flow; The perfection of emotion.
Faster its Speed Grows; The signs of love.
More so its warmth shows; a prisoner to the soul.
Rapidly it then jumps; A fright outspoken.
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With each day's breath a new one rises,
First bitten by the cold the yule winds freezing.
Each moment colder then the one that past.
Faster they freeze, no warmth has last.
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I really want to write a poem from my mind,
Yet I find it clustered with no escape in time.
In the past what I wrote ‘twas emotion it spoke.
Falling like rains just stories of my pains.
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Waking in a world so full of life, its hard to find oneself.
Hard to see past the lies, hard to deal with reasons we cry.
Yet pressured we remain looking for answers in time.
What do we find? truth in disguise. Reasons to hate.
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Where do we find what brings us joy?
Is it a gift from Santa, maybe a toy?
Is it holding our family and been being accepted?
Is it in torment of others that inspires you laugh?
...