#550739 added November 21, 2007 at 7:46pm Restrictions: None
The Epitomal Goth Poem
I.
I am...
Depressed.
I, the dregs of humanity, wallow in disgust for foolish mortals.
I sneer at their superior looks, and spit in their condescending eyes. How can they dare to judge me? None can judge me so harshly as I!
I depress them, as I am depressed.
In sleeve of lace and velvet, darkening as the raven's wing, I fly across a moonless sky. I dance upon the stars, one by one to be extinguished by the cruel sun.
I am the stalker of the night, with glorious skin of white shielded from the coming dawn.
I am the dark soul of youth, dreading the fast-approaching end of Time.
I am a black-winged butterfly, crushed beneath the conformist heel of corperation.
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