Beneath the feet of golden few,
The masses lie, bruised black and blue,
Crushed by dreams that never rise,
Fed to fire beneath cold skies.
For every king that wears a crown,
A thousand souls are beaten down,
Their hopes are dirt, their voices torn,
A bed of bones where wealth is born.
The chosen feast, while shadows choke,
On promises that splinter, broke,
Silent screams in hollowed halls,
Blood on hands that built the walls.
What is the cost of gilded thrones?
An empire stacked on brittle bones,
The nameless, faceless cast away,
Their futures bled for those who stay.
But every stone beneath their feet,
Is stained with dreams they dared to cheat,
And though the dark may blind the stars,
One day it swallows all that's ours.
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Lurk's Compendium of Dark Poetry (LCDP)
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
