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Tears of a Doomed Man

Poetry By: SereneGaldr
Poetry


A dying man recounts his wrong-doings as he cries himself to the grave.


Submitted:Oct 10, 2012    Reads: 19    Comments: 5    Likes: 2   


Tears

I Cry these tears

Not of my pain

But for the wrongs I've done

The sins I've made.

My brother's cries

Echoed round the house.

Love surrounds him.

That love is spread

Shared with my other siblings.

Remorse, regret

Are shared with me.

Children here

A mistake there.

Picture perfect.

Lusted lair.

I spread that lust, that hate, that greed.

A mistake I was, a ravaged breed.

My sisters, so young and so fair.

Tender, supple…

They felt so good...

I ravaged them,

Their maidenhood.

Lust, jealousy, contempt.

They were perfect

In my parents' eyes.

And I was a mistake

That passed them by.

My hatred flared

And cracked the sky.

Turned red, my hands

Stabbed my brother blind.

I killed them all

Consumed by anger.

My deformed hands,

Wrapped round their throats.

Squeezed air of them

And cracked their bones.

My sins and I

Are all alone.

Bleeding now, slain by our foes…

The cross has come

And the Lord cracked down.

His subjects worked

To repent my renown.

So I cry these tears,

Not of my pain.

But the wrongs I've done,

The sins I've made…





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