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WeWe walk between empty mirrors, gracing those who have foreseen our lives.

We slither alongside shadows, banishing newborns from their knives.

Forsaken, our prey shriek, their joyful souls are forevermore meek.

Though, within them lies fear, a fear that we wish to seek.

Their speechless eyes wander aimlessly through our coats of despair and doom, seeing all with blind transparency except a cloud of gloom.

Our knowledge exceeds their beings, their fear is given without a fee.

Thus, always and forever shall we strike them down with glee.

UsCursed upon our tattered souls, is a melting bell that never tolls.

Thrust forth into the streets of madness, our mothers deceived us, for they gambled with sadness.

Such purity that once was has morphed into dust; betrayed, deformed, and abandoned trust.

Unseen by clear eyes our beings fought by, preventing the restless from entering the sky.

Alas, here we lie under stones of dead souls, with our books in our hands as the melting bell tolls.

The TaleFingers stitched together by misfortune and still sages, here lies a tale with unopened pages.

Few filled with reasoning and joyful endings of rhyme, the majority fall upon stakes and grant their souls to time.

Phrases and fragments cast themselves within the lines, striking out and down the beautiful ones through a connection of ancient signs.

And alas none shall ever read it, this book so dark yet divine, hence I shall take it for myself, thus my soul is an unread rhyme.

My DearestPainfully enslaved before the Shadows Lord, my dearest lost her ebony sword.

Her mind trapped soullessly beneath his eyes, it was given up prior to her demise.

Chained mercilessly to doubts and oblivion's mind, her being ceased to care if it ever became blind.

Turmoil and voices forever ran through her mind, they spoke of the sword and where it had been twined.

Twined of stitched ligaments, and never seen hearts, my darling ran from the dungeon to uncover their parts.

But alas during her journey she was brutally slain, her blood boiled in her eyes, and never found was her brain.

MyselfThe jar of tears has fallen to pieces, lost are the memories from within the creases.

They've all abandoned me, my silent friends, our bonds have withered beyond their ends.

So predictable this scene truly was, the girl who fell from not a single cause.

Twas my own fault, for I banished all help, rotted to pieces within myself.

Though alas a mark has been etched within stones, "My soul lives forever without my bones."

Our Simple TaskWe are deepened by our dark souls, sealed within the bloody and banished scrolls.

Damned by the morning and by the light, our eyes lurk gloomily in the path of night.

We whisper tears throughout your sight, paralyzing your intelligence and fear of flight.

Alas flight is what you truly need, hence why your fate is for us to read.

In the air your body is thrown, whisked upon the dead; let your soul hear them moan.

Thrust forth and forgotten by the stain of blood, absorb the monstrosity from within the flood.

Bested by glasses and long dark coat, your flesh reeks a stench; thou shall be thrown in the moat.

Left to freeze and burn from the

The Moonlit RiverDown the moonlit river, I sail with my soul alone.

The glimmering water dances across my paddle, it sings to me songs of the unknown.

Ten shimmering fish swim by, their fins forged of gems and jewels from the night sky.

Silver trees on either side, their ethereal leaves whisper and glide.

Glistening waterfalls ripple into place, across my canoe their translucent lines trace.

Forevermore I shall sail this stream, never will I awaken from this ethereal dream.

The Frozen SongsFrozen songs whispered by the wind, such elegance brought to the trees.

Simplistic vows forever forgotten, such forgiveness they ask, such pleas.

At once they sang, such elegant notes, but alas those have drifted away.

Nevermore they shall return to sing, nevermore shall they ever stay.

The Maiden of MorbidityAshen hair woven by shadows, pure white skin born from blood, the maiden of morbidity has at last awakened from the Hellish pits of forgotten mud.

Her grace shall dance along with the wind, stealing the breaths from those who have sinned.

Binding their intestines within their throats, leaving them to drown within the moats.

Such chaos shall reign upon the fools, stripping them of intelligence and "honest rules."

And once her job is at last complete, she shall dine upon fresh human meat.

The DollOn a calm June day, with the morning in sight, a soul was born to cast out the light.

This soul was a doll, one born of a gift, with fair skin and eyes that would secretly drift.

Such silken hair draped upon her head, its texture would guide the path of the dead.

Soulless beings at her every command, the doll sent them forth to claim the human's land.

So many she stained, so many she slaughtered, alas they're now plants that must always be watered.

The CrowBirthed before the white flames of snow, is a crow of intellect with a darkened glow.

A glow from the shadows, deathly and grey, it dwells within souls of the crow's mindless prey.

Such blood-filled specimens without a clue or a light, they wander the deep oceans without knowledge of fright.

Dimensions of fear drown their pitiful eyes, the crow only watches them from above the black skies.

It scavenges their bodies and devours their hearts, nevermore seeing humanity as it ignores and departs.

The BowThe clock has stuck twelve, my departure is now, I must bid you farewell, it's time for my bow.

My life is a show, the curtains now shredded, the stage collapsed, and the cast beheaded.

The crowd loudly shrieks and roars at my lines, they find them paltry and without "proper rhymes."

They cease to find beauty in my works of art, all their eyes see is a grievous heart.

And as I utter my final words, all falls silent and my soul swiftly bows.

The CloakRobbed from buried clocks and the dear bird of elegancy, was a shining cloak of magnificence; pure transparency.

Its radiance brought upon wars of banishing, many secrets thrust forward and insanely vanishing.

Thus began the quest for the cloak, years of investigations had blinded all into smoke.

Though alas the cloak remains still intact, silently folded and within my soul, packed.

Thou Shall BurnClench my soul, go right ahead; ignite your flesh and I shall deem you dead.

Dance with fire and thou shalt be burned, scorched to deformity with your soul never returned.

Exceed your limits, turn away your falls, shall the trials begin beneath the walls?

Oh yes they shall my dearest thing, for your fate will rest within this ebony ring.

Such glory was enthralled into my soul, how you plead for its power, its superiority, its toll.

Though alas you've proven not worthy of it all, hence your death shall be remarkable, forever now you shall fall.

YouThe pours of your mind, diseased and left oozing; droplets of configurations spun in a line.

What was forgotten in the space between your knowledge, there's not a damn thing left except for time.

Years and years of unsolved reservations, crooked and creaking like your bloodshot eyes.

Examining the past with a magnifying glass, I doubt you'll realize anything for your life is mine.

I stole your soul with a simplistic vine, one brought from the restless pastes of time.

When your steel-blue eyes locked my mind in the corner, I patiently waited, for your soul would be mine.

You kindly pranced over and asked a little favor, I simply stabbed

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HerBeneath twisted vines of exceptional lies, exists a simplistic immortal who dares not speak.

Her covered eyes release an echo, one that frightens and silences the weak.

And why dost thou hide from her in the clouds, is it to bypass her howls and shrieks?

Is your fear that condensed, must you avoid her being, or are you simply one of the weak?

It does not matter, not anymore, for her immortality is dominance; thou art no more.

Come With MeCome With Me

As the moon arises from the ocean sea, my soul disappears, won't you come with me?

But it seems you're afraid, the dead world isn't bad, there are millions of skeletons and souls at hand.

They'd love to meet you, to rip off your flesh, and to lead you to our king who would devour your soul, fresh.

You'd become one of us after that painful journey, but dearest you love me, so won't you join me?

The Dead CrowThe dead crow flies across the plentiful white grass.

Its decaying wings echo through the broken shards of glass.

Glass that was from windows and a shattered heart, one that could never be repaired, nor ever torn apart.

The crow glances down but doesn't care, for his soul and heart rest within the air.

The Lonely HouseThe Lonely House

Across the plains, lies a lonely house.

None ever choose to visit it, not a human nor a mouse.

It lies in a grassy field, tattered and torn, the roof tilted over, it's so very forlorn.

This house sees the rains, the trees and the stones, but the only inhabitant is now a bag of bones.

A once loving owner is deep underground, a plague of silence is the only sound.

And soon to think this house shall fall, no, it shall not, for it still remains tall.

Taller and prouder than the houses far away, it shall always live to see another day.

Such a Lengthy Venting PieceAn iron-scented red liquid, oozing violently out of your puss-filled skin.

It never ceases to stop, it gushes through paper, bandages, and twins.

Twins bonded by their bones, tearing each other apart within.

Pleading with the devil to release them of this painful hatred, to free them of an eternal bond.

A bond so severe it would shatter the windows to the Gods, ones forged of pure souls and happiness.

Happiness, such a vile word, it describes a falsity that none can accept or learn.

Such pathetic simpletons they are, never comprehending a damned thing, let alone why they're here, or why beauty doesn't come with a ring.

Mortals, they si

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Twas Her

by =PlethoraFantastique, Feb 16, 2013, 4:28:09 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Twas benevolence that stroked her midnight hair; the two golden eyes of pure significance.

The clockwork world enveloped her decaying body with showers made of elegance.

Spheres and diamonds, absinthe rings, silver candles, and assorted things.

Given to her such riches of old, but alas she became greedy, that crone of mold.

Stolen, she took souls from elderly thrones, swept away their memories from within their bones.

The filth kept within her soul, the treasures she lied to have long before, such angst overcame her pitiful heart, it demanded repentance from the end to the start.

She denied such treason to those who trusted her, she claimed it for the "better of all."

And here lies her frozen head, forever forgotten, forever dead.