Bleeding, Crying
Death strode along the road
Cloak draped over thin frame
Scythe gripped in morbid sense
Seeking out youth, pure, clean
To take far down under
The place he resides in
Skies a constant darkness
Suffocating bleak scenes
Dripping in blood and tears
Souls drowning in this dark
Brought by the hands of Death
Suffer eternally
He made his way to me
Eyes gazing through my heart
Void of feeling, of love
A bleak emptiness there
Eyes gazed with fierce hunger
For this young, pure, clean soul
Manipulated heart
Wanted to bleed, to cry
Headed down the dark road
Threatened by a sharp scythe
Sharp as broken pieces
Shattered from that one cold
Cold from their words, actions
Showed her how to feel pain
Enveloped her poor heart
Cracked it from the inside
Broken pieces hurt her
Death could take easily
Swung down the dark weapon
Above cowering shape
Pathetic figure hunched
Braced for that long darkness
Cry under bleeding skies
Bleed with the crying souls
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts of the Wicked
PoetryExcuse me as I just lay my feelings out into this lil' poetry collection.
