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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #1598329
A poem of futility, and lost passion, and the frustrations of failure in life

She hated them all, except one.
She was split though the heart was in fury.
Regulation their reactions, spewing forth lies,
Watching their response and teasing their manhood
She dreamed of torture, longing to eat of their fruits,
Biting off jewels of inheritance.
She was obsessed.

She knew it, death was a release.

He fought desperately for what he saw.
He didn't see her drooling form,
Waiting in the corner, curled in fear.
He was lost in self-defeating gains,
A fog of inertia held him motionless.
Destiny not worth the fight, he stood hunched,
He couldn't react.

He knew it, death was a release.

They thought they cared, hypocrites.
They said the lines, cooed the words,
Interpreting the conflict in pat response.
They were in over their heads, drowning images.
Closing the door they turned away,
Blind to the scene before them
They gave up.

They knew it, death was a release.

All live lives of horror, souls of destitution.
All fear the passion, safe denial.
Suppressing knowledge dark and deep,
Dusting acts of love in petty shadows.
All know they will never achieve.
Heads buried, flaccid dreams of failure
All is lost.

All know it, death is a release.




© Copyright 2009 sebastian (fiona2me at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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