Poetry of the darker side. |
Rage of Ages I pound the keys as I find my anger flairs with this letter My wrath will echo and make my soul that less better Golden and prestine is each line of hate that grows longer A sweet dream like no other devoured by my eyes like a hate monger Pound, Pound, pressure behind these soul-bleached eyes make the screen I stare at, stare back like it would despise I loath each key I stroke to conjure this letter of ill will it wastes the time I could use to hang dead weight from my window sill This letter, this god forsaken letter is truly meant for you mostly so you know I know, exactly what it is I want to do To escape all shred of knowledge of insurmounting agony you taught To return a broken vessel to the store of hell in which you bought Soul sweetly crying for escape from anyplace that touches you wether it be the bed in which you sleep so soundly in or the very soil of this damn planet that touches your skin or the stars that carress your existence with light or the virus that kisses you with exhausting blight Just know you killed me and all desire to be in your realm when you falsley gave your heart to another and burned mine within a deciet fueled kelm |