He was the Lord,
Lord of the Darken Times,
Lord of sins,
Spreading as hellfire,
Hellfire upon humanity,
Humanity he resented dreadfully.
He was the Lord,
Lord as the incarnation of evil,
Yet his icy heart longed warmth,
Warmth different,
Different from the goblet of blood,
Different from the burning rage.
He was the Lord,
As his mind clouded,
Clouded with lucid dreams,
Yet his being illuminating hatred,
Illuminating his glorious equanimity.
He was the Lord,
Eyes so crimson,
Crimson as jewels from the pits of hell.
He was the Lord,
Who was once a prince,
Who once smiled as golden,
Golden as the sunshine,
Who's crimson eyes,
Radiated with the diamond unknown.
He was the Lord,
Former of the golden Sun,
Becoming likeness of the Moon,
Cold.
Distant.
Reflecting.
He was the Lord,
As he stood on the verge,
Verge of destruction,
Verge of rage,
Verge of madness,
As he himself,
Raped his very mind,
Assaulting his goodwill,
Stabbing himself,
Stabbing till no golden remained.
He was the Lord,
For the only warmth he now felt,
Was of everything his rage burnt,
Aftermath of everything reduced,
Everything his being poisoned,
Enveloping.
Yet,
He was the Lord.
~ Sapphirus
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts of a Loner.
PoeziePoetry written by yet another individual just existing throughout as any other being like any of you, experiencing life and suffocating thoughts.
