A/N: you know, the poems I write in this book are somewhat morbid. Just to inform you, I am not a morbid person. I think this is just my way of letting out my darkness so it doesn't reflect on my character, so, hopefully I am not insane. To the poem, because I really need to stop with these novel/author's notes.......
THE MASTER OF DARKNESS
Chambers of ice,
bottles of ink,
in the domain where everything sinks.
Bodies drop.
Heads roll.
The Master of Darkness takes his toll.
A/N: So, how was it? Comment or message me your means of letting out your inner darkness, or if I am the only one who does this, or if I am insane and overly philosophical.....
Those of you who noticed "part one", yes, there will be a part two, and maybe even part three. So keep your eyes open. And, last, why am I so obsessed with ink? so far two of my poems have the word "ink" in them. revision time!!!! Farewell! :)
YOU ARE READING
Swept Ashore
PoetryBe swept away in the ocean of poetry, wash ashore in a sanctuary of words, a place where you will be safe from the harsh world of sanity, catch a breath of the sea breezy air, twinged with the insanity that only writers know.
