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Image for the poem - VIRTUE OF THE GRAVE -

- VIRTUE OF THE GRAVE -


In the void
Black as ice
Dead of winter
Black
Black
Black
As ice

In the storm
Cold as death
Dead of night
Cold
Cold
Cold
As death

I writhe in torment
One with the thunder
Breathing , frailty
The touch of a ghost

Reaching again
Grasping for nothingness
Dying again
At the moment of birth

In the cradle
As in the grave
Dead as Christ
Gasp
Gasp
Gasp
In graves

I feel the lightning rod
Piercing human flesh
I feed the hand of God
The reaper's caress
I feel the lighting, God!
Across human flesh
No more blood of your blood
Under human flesh
I feel the lightning rod
Piercing human flesh
I feed the hand of God
The reaper's caress

I was but a shade
Condemned to live
I long for the virtue
Of the, of the
Of the grave


(c) 2017 Frank Green

Written by HadesRising
Published | Edited 21st Jan 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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