deepundergroundpoetry.com

Image for the poem Her

Her

Long eyelashes
beautifies her intense glare.
She makes you yearn
masochistic seduction,
flirting with fear.

Her hair is black
as intensive as her long dress.
Whether dead or alive,
she is bound to impress

Her eyes gleam red,
a total mystery to one's visual essence.
But she dominates the room,
with just the smell of her presence.

Her pale skin
almost to seems to shine,
If you look at her too long,
it's said you'll become blind.

Not a smile,
from her black painted lips.
A droplet of blood,
at the curve of her mouth,
unknowing slips.

And on a throne,
she comfortingly sits.
As the crows worship their Goddess,
in darkness equal bliss.

Queen, she might be,
no one knows for sure.
It's none of her evil grand beauty,
even in village folklore.

The witch of the crows,
Queen of beast.
She is acknowledge just by "Her"
because no one knows,
who she really is.
[/font]
Written by PsychicApocalypse (Darker Half)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5 reading list entries 0
comments 8 reads 827
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 2:48pm by Everavalon
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:07pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:44pm by Everavalon
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:28pm by JiltedJohnny
POETRY
Today 9:13am by Grace
COMPETITIONS
Today 3:39am by Kou_Indigo