The death of rationality within my head
But really it's just you that has become dead
With your death, Satan sings
For you, my dear, give him wings
And he will feel so bloody well
when you join him in the bowels of hell
You laughed at me, you thought it was fun
Touching my temple with your cold gun
Loving the desperation you thought you'd found
My screams only echoed some faint sound
You thought you'd always have my backside
convinced that I could never hide
No need to hide, that's my revelation
You seem to suffer from a spiritual castration
And soon you'll see yourself with true fears
Maybe even blood on top of your tears
Like a pedaphile in prison, you will get your turn
In Hell & on Earth, your soul will burn
Into the fire, your spirit will be toseed
But for you, my dear, all is not lost
Satan needs wings & they are built upon pain
So the moment you die, you may feel sane
Free for the moment of all your violent things
and merely left as a feather in satans' wings.
Written by Paige
BARB
Bardouble29 (aka Barb) has always loved to write. Writing has proven to be a way to deal with the tough parts of life. Her poetry tends to be a little on the dark and sad side. She loves making words come alive. But she can be known to throw in poems of other venue.
3 comments:
Wow! What an ordeal and what amazing courage.
Thank you for sharing this one. Yes it is dark, but very honest!
"You laughed at me, you thought it was fun
Touching my temple with your cold gun"
This is my favorite line. I can really feel the fear and malice behind it. Great work!
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