Darkest Despair

At last, this sword from hell I find,
fantasies of self-slaughter captivate my mind.
This unearthly hour summons my blood,
demonic pleasures to the graves they bind.

Merlot bleeds from wasteland fissures;
oxblood threads secrete from the earth.
An oasis of riches lures the travellers,
to their finale by the most sensual verse.

Are her eyes truly to my affections blind?
Is her heart colder than my underground dearth?
In the chaos of worldly chains she’s lost,
as no one shall of my existence recall.


Dear dreams, dear diary, what is this fate?
I cannot fathom with all my earthly wit.
All I ask of is save untainted love,
yet I have nothing save the hails from above.

O, for all my honourable years,
glories have concealed my lonely tears.
Is unending compassion a sin to be damned –
thus I must suffer under a rain of spears?

As my blood runs dry, my spirits extinguish,
my mortal flesh must one day rot.
Save for her sorrows alone that bid my anguish –
much duties to be willed, though my will is naught.

Published in: on 11/03/2017 at 12:35 AM  Leave a Comment  

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