deepundergroundpoetry.com
Frustrated Failure
You made me feel alive
Until I wished you dead
I sought you out
To feed on your disease
But you only attempted to cure me
And it brought me to my knees
All this time I thought I was rid you
But No
Your back again
Only to rape my soul
But you won't even give me
The pleasure of making me bleed
Until I wished you dead
I sought you out
To feed on your disease
But you only attempted to cure me
And it brought me to my knees
All this time I thought I was rid you
But No
Your back again
Only to rape my soul
But you won't even give me
The pleasure of making me bleed
Published 9th Mar 2019
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Anonymous
- Edited 7th May 2019 00:46am
9th Mar 2019 5:21pm
<< post removed >>
9th Mar 2019 5:50pm
10th Mar 2019 6:41pm
10th Mar 2019 7:33pm
The kind of love that is only birthed by deep visceral pain. You cant have one without the other. In the grand scheme of things, an infernal blaze that can destroy you if you let it. Even in the scorched remains, a small ember will always remain. I can see you get me in this one! Thanks for the read. These are my first attempts.
10th Mar 2019 8:14pm
10th Mar 2019 8:19pm
10th Mar 2019 8:20pm
Anonymous
- Edited 12th Apr 2020 8:45pm
10th Mar 2019 9:23pm
<< post removed >>
10th Mar 2019 9:28pm
17th Jun 2019 00:49am
Death, we realize as women forced to bear
the weight of the dead on our shoulders,
never comes as a thief.
she comes as a lover, smelling of lilac, a grin
too white and too large to be human.
still, we invite her in,
because even death, regardless of form,
makes for better company than the empty dark.
Serpentium
the weight of the dead on our shoulders,
never comes as a thief.
she comes as a lover, smelling of lilac, a grin
too white and too large to be human.
still, we invite her in,
because even death, regardless of form,
makes for better company than the empty dark.
Serpentium
