(Beyond)
Slowly, slowly,
The darkness fades in.
Gently, gently,
The petals touch ground.
Sickly, sickly,
The crimson soaks up.
Gross, gross,
So. Bloody. Gross.
Deformed she is,
A lost beauty,
Scarred by blade,
Gutted by claw,
They got to her,
We know,
The horror in the shadows.
Claws sharper than knives,
Eyes greener than emeralds,
Sickly, thin figures,
Moving where the lights cannot.
Hear our cries, child,
Don't leave us behind,
You don't understand,
The horrors past pine.
Don't leave us child,
The world outside,
Is far worse than here.
We'll protect you, child,
So stay with us,
Behind these walls of mine.
---
(Behind)
The cackling laughter from those before us,
The stories they tell,
Of horrors beyond us,
The sickly, deformed, gutted figures of young,
The terrors of claws peeling her flesh,
It's a dark world out there,
So they say,
But is it really that way?
The torture they pull,
The taunting of food,
The cries at night,
From those who know of no right,
The comfort of others,
That cannot last longer,
From the true
Monsters.
Hands larger than ours,
Eyes filled with dark intent,
Sickly, thin figures,
Writhing in lack of light.
Hear our cries, night,
Don't leave us alone,
We despise all,
The horrors inside pine.
Take us away, dark,
The world outside,
Sounds better than here,
The pain will end quickly,
So take us away,
Past these walls of pine.
YOU ARE READING
My Lonely Pathos
ŞiirA series of poems, songs and whatever else is screaming in my mind. Pathos isn't something that comes to me, but when it does, it's written down and shared for those to see.
