Watch the Pure Become Corupt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem was written at an odd phase in my life were I was obsessed with the thought of darkness, the thought of being "goth". Ah, alas, phases are interesting things.

Submitted: March 06, 2008

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Submitted: March 06, 2008

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As the cold shadows pass with a shattered black heart,
My beat quickens,
With an adrenaline rush of lust.
When I spot the perfect angel,
Banished from heaven,
Standing there,
Lone in the darkness.
I can already taste his ichor like blood,
The blood of gods,
In my mouth and feel it…
Drip, flow down my body in a warm rush,
Dampening my clothes,
Staining them with the pure evil of him.
"Angels Banished from heaven have no choice but to become demons"
So I watched his wings darken
To the black of the night sky,
His flesh turn to a pale white
From it's once living blushed state,
And his pure blue eyes to red...
He spots me,
Or perhaps I believe him to spot me,
And he was the center of such sinful thoughts…
Or maybe he did just spot me,
And I am a child from the womb of the darkness…
This is all irrelevant for there soon after…
I fallowed him into Hell,
To dance with the Devil
And listen to him play.

 


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