1. Obilterate
2. Mayhem
3. Lucent
4. Grueling
5. Depreciate
6. Stoop
7. Odious
8. Methodic
9. Tramp
10. Cadaver
11. Devoted
12. Forlorn
13. Lustrious
14. Labyrinth
15.Zealous
Poem
Obliterate what you know of hope,
Replace it with thoughts of mayhem.
Of lucent dreams that always ends in a grueling pain.
With no way to depreciate any of the madness
The soul stoops into the depression of the abyss
With an odious fate that befalls to whom so ever dreams of freedom.
Though the caverns of darkness may be ravenous,
It soothes one’s empty soul with sensuous, morbid, methodic intent.
Like the lace on the dress of a tramp caresses her cadaver in a soft breeze.
Though the soul is devoted to the wistfulness of pleasure and hope,
It is forlorn to such delights in the dark abyss.
The soul soon defeated, loses all lustrous optimism
To the labyrinth of incessant pain,
And the malevolent dark chasm that renders the soul
To the furthest reaches of Hell.
A zealous place where malicious entities that devour one’s life force.
Sentencing it to an eternity of torturous pain.
The Story: Purity Lost
The night howled with ominous winds so cold they bit one’s face with bitterness and malice. The freezing air threatened to obliterate any hope of finding comfort and warmth. The mayhem that plagued her mind was her rationality to teeter on the brink of going insane. She could not take the dreams of lucent creatures and unimaginably grueling pain. There was no solution the maddening agony; she knew that the suffering was incessant and could never be depreciated. Her soul felt lost and hungered after freedom and love with every bit of itself. Her soul begins to stoop in the icy darkness of the frigged abyss that occupied her heart, body, mind, and soul. The girl dare not dream of peace and of being free from the hell, for the fear of an odious fate befalling her and consuming her whole in a blanket—No, a cavern—of darkness. Tendrils ominous tendrils caress her mind and body with a morbid, sensuous, but methodic intent. It is the lace of the of a tramp’s skirt, whom’s addictive and dangerous wiles caused her untimely demise, which blows in a slight breeze as if to softly caress her lifeless cadaver.
Her mind is again assailed with visions and voices of painless days and wholesome nights of a lover. Only to be reminded of her soul’s devotion to the wistfulness of pleasure and all hope. All the love and care that her soul strives for, is struck with the forlorn reality to such delights and cast into the ever dark abyss. She fights with the whole of her heart and soul to regain some peace of mind; to win back some part of her humanity…
She is losing her war with herself and the profound darkness and can’t help but want to scream. Her soul releases a distinct shriek that resonates through time and space as it voices its disdain for the sordid, malevolence that impends on pain. All too soon, her soul is defeated, losing all its lustrous optimism for hope and peace; loses it to the elaborate labyrinth of incessant paroxysm, throes of pain; losing her soul to a malevolent, ebony chasm that renders the soul to the furthest reaches of Hell.
Sorrow greets her as she is hurdled through the fiery expanses of this zealous place. A torrent of agony and regrets assail her as grueling entities capture and devour her pure life force that once held such value, hope and luster. What had she done for her soul to deserve such an unwilling, twisted fate? What had she done that permitted her soul to be desecrated—sentenced to an eternity of torturous pain and agony?..
Replace it with thoughts of mayhem.
Of lucent dreams that always ends in a grueling pain.
With no way to depreciate any of the madness
The soul stoops into the depression of the abyss
With an odious fate that befalls to whom so ever dreams of freedom.
Though the caverns of darkness may be ravenous,
It soothes one’s empty soul with sensuous, morbid, methodic intent.
Like the lace on the dress of a tramp caresses her cadaver in a soft breeze.
Though the soul is devoted to the wistfulness of pleasure and hope,
It is forlorn to such delights in the dark abyss.
The soul soon defeated, loses all lustrous optimism
To the labyrinth of incessant pain,
And the malevolent dark chasm that renders the soul
To the furthest reaches of Hell.
A zealous place where malicious entities that devour one’s life force.
Sentencing it to an eternity of torturous pain.
The Story: Purity Lost
The night howled with ominous winds so cold they bit one’s face with bitterness and malice. The freezing air threatened to obliterate any hope of finding comfort and warmth. The mayhem that plagued her mind was her rationality to teeter on the brink of going insane. She could not take the dreams of lucent creatures and unimaginably grueling pain. There was no solution the maddening agony; she knew that the suffering was incessant and could never be depreciated. Her soul felt lost and hungered after freedom and love with every bit of itself. Her soul begins to stoop in the icy darkness of the frigged abyss that occupied her heart, body, mind, and soul. The girl dare not dream of peace and of being free from the hell, for the fear of an odious fate befalling her and consuming her whole in a blanket—No, a cavern—of darkness. Tendrils ominous tendrils caress her mind and body with a morbid, sensuous, but methodic intent. It is the lace of the of a tramp’s skirt, whom’s addictive and dangerous wiles caused her untimely demise, which blows in a slight breeze as if to softly caress her lifeless cadaver.
Her mind is again assailed with visions and voices of painless days and wholesome nights of a lover. Only to be reminded of her soul’s devotion to the wistfulness of pleasure and all hope. All the love and care that her soul strives for, is struck with the forlorn reality to such delights and cast into the ever dark abyss. She fights with the whole of her heart and soul to regain some peace of mind; to win back some part of her humanity…
She is losing her war with herself and the profound darkness and can’t help but want to scream. Her soul releases a distinct shriek that resonates through time and space as it voices its disdain for the sordid, malevolence that impends on pain. All too soon, her soul is defeated, losing all its lustrous optimism for hope and peace; loses it to the elaborate labyrinth of incessant paroxysm, throes of pain; losing her soul to a malevolent, ebony chasm that renders the soul to the furthest reaches of Hell.
Sorrow greets her as she is hurdled through the fiery expanses of this zealous place. A torrent of agony and regrets assail her as grueling entities capture and devour her pure life force that once held such value, hope and luster. What had she done for her soul to deserve such an unwilling, twisted fate? What had she done that permitted her soul to be desecrated—sentenced to an eternity of torturous pain and agony?..
0 comments:
Post a Comment