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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1084281
Another sonnet
Faintest Light

I had a chance to bend a beam of light
or send the dead beneath the darker skies.
We need be fearful of the blackest night
and screaming of the souls with lonely cries.
We cannot tell what life and love will bring
nor from which well we'll share a final drink.
Tis' true, we shall not hear the Angels sing
for here we will stand upon Hell's hot brink.
You and I impaled on the Devil's horns,
we the bravest, who are about to leave.
Two valiant roses with their deadly thorns
and no one's left behind to ever grieve.
The only thing that's left to do is bleed,
and of my shadow, Angels have no need.

Signature created for me by Hanna
© Copyright 2006 T.L.Finch (t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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