The Stool

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
More insane poetry about insanity, hope you enjoy.

Submitted: December 29, 2007

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Submitted: December 29, 2007

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Broken dreams define these walls
Where I am captive in my fall
The ground blurs into focus
And upon it sits a stool
I smell the coffee
And know the fools
Who sit upon this stool will die
And out of the blood red moon a crie
Sounds in the distance
And shatters the mirror of reality
From the sky pours blood
That swells in clouds of blackened death
I loose my breath
Closer and closer
The ground rushes towards me
No fear
Fear
Hope
No hope
The hands of the souls of the dead reach towards me
And I see
As they pull me limbs of me
That I fall alone
With others
Dressed in silver and gold
A nice contrast to my blood-black robe
The darkening clouds engulf the sky
And everyone dies
And no one cries
As the ground flies
Right past me
And still I fall
The stool coming ever closer
No more ground to sit upon it falls in pace with my shattered fears and hope.


© Copyright 2017 Itsuwari. All rights reserved.

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