The fire dancing, fueled by sin
The fire dancing, in the wind
It radiates warmth
Its light lulls you in
There are no shadows here,
But that of the noose
But its light is just so bright,
Its warmth, so soothing
You ignore all the warnings
And you stumble right in
You realize too late,
That you've made a mistake
You try to pull back,
But it's too late
The fire burns bright,
As the day turns to night.
The fire burns bright,
As the noose pulls tight.
The fire burns bright,
Like the smiling sun.
The noose, its accomplice,
In the deed that's been done.
Its voice crackles
A haunting toon.
There is no escape-
It's too late for you.
YOU ARE READING
Writing Poetry is for Losers
PoetryThis is a book of poems, what else do you need to know? Well, I guess it's not entirely poems- but the focus is poetry. The best description would be an open diary/though book, but in poems. Does that make this a blog? I honestly have no idea why I'...
