His fingers caress the flame,
He's a raven, cold, dark alone
No one cares about the freak
Garbed only in black.
Light bounces off the ring on his brow
To the stud in his nose
To the fang in his lip
To the cuts all over.
The dove is shy however,
The dove knows his place
He sits in a wide group of friends
Laughing at the raven.
No markings on the dove's soft skin
Not a single missing feather
Eyes shine with brightness
That his surroundings haven't dulled
But the raven screams at night
The raven tears himself to bits
The raven can't even rise without shaking
And collapsing in choking sobs.
The raven can't fly, his wings long broken
While the dove soars high and high
The raven sleeps in the cold hard rain
The dove dances and sings for a grade.
The raven's black is growing darker
With the pressure of the times
But the dove keeps getting brighter
Dulling the sun's rays.
The raven falls out of the harbinger of fear
Onto the dove's clean green lawn
The dove panics and takes him in
While the raven cries and moans.
The dove's feathers grow darker,
Constant care for the dark raven tires
But the raven just gets lighter
Even smiling the first time.
The dove finds the cuts on the raven
And his worry grows and grows
But the dove caresses gently
The dark raven in the night.
A union formed to never break,
With the dove and raven,
Both are grey in spirit
But happy, nonetheless.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of the Dark, Dark Depths
PoezjaFeelings hurt, others insult and we cry, as we lie in our cold embrace together, but they don't know what I think, but now you will. WARNING: Some poems may be triggering PLEASE DON'T STEAL THESE FROM ME.
