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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1121492
Poem I wrote when trying to write in the style of the great Edgar Allan Poe.
Scarlet River

Dance upon the scarlet river
Pulsating red substance of life
A thousand souls hath spilled
Their Life's blood
Upon thy curséd riverbed
Fly o'er the scarlet river
Flowing crimson liquid of death
Given, taken, tis all the same
Though no two drops are the same
Veins sliced, arteries slashed
Outward flows that crimson tide
On which rides my soul's departure
Slowly sinking thee and thy
Into the black abyssal plane of death
Never again will we walk those stainéd shores
Gazing sleepily at the undulating tide
Creeping closer to my toes
Only to slither back again
Fickle, Fickle, oh be fortune Fickle
My life in the hands of thy small child
How quickly their attention ends
So sparatic thee hath become
The Pain! The Pain! My heart spasms
My brain hurtling through darkening chasms
My lungs collapsing, that I fear
For they hath not drawn a breath
For the last few moments now
I feel the numbness creeping
Slowly, slowly surely
Is there naught I can do?
To stop Death's graceful pirouette
That shall slowly, surely close mine eyes
Glide, nay, skim across the crimson river
Feel the tainted river's spray
Upon thy angelic face
Your pallor comes now swiftly
Your hands are slightly atremble
As the last few drops of color drain away
Now your eyelids begin to droop
And the world's white noise is drowning out
So you may only hear the labored breathing
And those final heartbeats pitter-patter
Inside thy courageous breast
Never again will we walk those stainéd shores
As you gaze so peacefully
At the scarlet river’s undulating tide
© Copyright 2006 Lady Harmony (darkness17 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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