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Rated: · Other · Religious · #1221351
Old poem I wrote in high school.
I hope to God, the one in the sun, that this perceptual chaos will be fine,
And when God is absent, I wish that this pathetic world could be mine.

From the ruins of broken temples lies an angel with one wing,
Her voice strains the good from evil when she tries to sing,
But when you listen hard, her whimper can be heard,
Just drop your egos guard, and your emotions can be stirred,
And she says……
I will be your martyr,
I will buy your pain,
Pour your pessimisms into me,
I love standing in the rain.
I will take your dreams,
I will crush your eyes,
I will be the one left living when you’re the one who dies…
Your Satan in disguise…
(Mine are stronger lies…)
MINE are stronger lies!
Her lifeless corpse has left man to the fires of free will,
As the eye of truth hangs in the heavens, this night she has been killed.
Who will relay the note of expression to humankind under a hex of depression?
When she is dead, not one invention will bring happiness under this destructive suppression.
© Copyright 2007 Nonfat Antipop (nonfat_antipop at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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