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The days, the months, the years
Oh, woe- for I am lost and alone.
An object you must find,
So that I am released from here.
Oh, woe, you must do something
In spite of your fear.
A crush to a fate,
A love to a hate,
A day was all it took.
A fate ruined,
A hate renewed,
A love turned ugly and gloom.
Woe for me,
For I am lost.
Woe for me,
For I am alone.
My cage is not one of physicality
It is one of mentality
Help me,
Oh, please help me.
Or can my pleas not be heard?
This life of anguish and despair
Has driven me to no other choice.
One more plea,
So that I may see if I can truly be free.
Woe for me,
For I am lost.
Woe for me,
For I am alone.
Please,
Have pity on me,
For I am lost and alone.
I have no guardian angel,
No watchful eye.
No one who truly loves and cares.
For I am alone,
And shall forever be.
“Goodbye, cruel world.”
And gone, I shall be.
Now it is far too late.
Someone came
And answered my calls.
But my hope had vanished long ago.
My life is gone.
Now I watch,
And I wait,
To see who will make my mistake.
Always look back to the memories
So that you will remember.
The good, the worst and the greatest
Times we've ever had.
Goodbye my friends,
Have a good life.
All you need is a wave of a hand;
And you will forget the memories.
The great, the worst and best times
That we had ever had.
Lullabies console me,
Troubles delude me.
I forget and I lie,
I hate and do not cry.
Forgive, forget; this will not do,
Try and try, love will not conquer you.
For love is a pity,
And hate is a shame,
I wish they would both be in harmony.
Love; it hurts.
Hate; it burdens.
So many feelings,
Yet we usually describe only two;
Love is a pity,
And hate is a shame.
To cry,
To sigh,
Oh miseries.
It is but a waste of time.
The tendril of hair
Lay on the table as
She rest there,
Tired from work.
Her head lay face down
On the dark mahogany table,
The light from the Sun
Already going down,
Nowhere to be seen.
And so the Sun goes,
Yet nobody knows that she is
Laying there, dead.
The warmth from her face
Is somewhere; misplaced,
And with the cold,
Already replaced.
The naive hopes and dreams
Of a naive little girl
Had devoured her whole little life.
She prayed and prayed,
Yet nothing became of her
Small, yet unrealistic dream.
She worked hard for the riches,
The fame and the glory
She so ultimately desired.
Her mother just laughed and said
"Dear, are you mad?
You won't get anywhere like that."
But her mother lay dead,
In her coffin with dread as her
Daughter sit in her mansion with awe.
She had worked to the top,
And she never would stop or dismay
As she worked so hard in the days.
In the end she just cried,
She never lived,
Never loved,
Never lied;
So she just died
Of a heart attack instead.
A heart;
It throbs with pain in the
Darkness of the shadows.
A heart;
It shall hurt for what seems
An eternity,
But before long the
Hurt will go,
And then you shall
Know a stronger feeling
Than before.
A heart;
It will burn in the dark,
As it grows from the lows.
So be not afraid of
The choices that were made -
For you see,
My love,
You will always have my trust,
And my heart -
No matter what comes.
The warmth in her eyes,
But not in her face -
It did nothing at all
But delay her demise.
She blinked
And looked down,
She thought about
What was happening here;
It struck her like lightning -
At that moment she believed
In a God.
But then she cursed her
Damned fate,
As she lay face down
In the dirt,
The blood mixing with
The mud.
The day becoming blacker,
As she died -
Along with her lies.
Elena my dear,
Be sweet;
Be sincere,
For the love of your
Friends shall leave
You feeling special
And dear.
Time will heal you,
Be sure of that.
Take as long as you need -
But never regret,
And never forget.
You are still loved;
Still cherished.
Elena my dear,
Be sweet;
Be sincere,
For we shall
Love you always
And forever.
"Who am I?"
The crying woman said
As she looked down at
Her lover -
All feeble and dead.
She cried to the Gods,
She cried to the stars,
But no one replied -
Not even her heart.
The courage in her
Had vanished long ago -
And there was also
A fact that she had lost
All faith and hope.
The look on her face,
With tears already placed
And the colour in her
Cheeks were pale and
She seemed so incomplete -
For her heart was
Broken, again.
A broken heart was
Hers to be forever -
And forever it would be true.
Her eyes glistened as
She looked down at
Her newborn babe.
She smiled and she
Held him for a while,
The warmth from his body comforting.
His heart beat,
And hers did, too.
But then his tiny,
Little body was taken away
And she did not know
What to do.
But the nurse told her
She needed to rest,
And so she did,
With the newborn babe asleep,
Atop his father's chest.
Deranged is the poet!
Deranged is his head,
To run from him
Is like running for Death.
He feeds on the darkness,
This poet,
This man,
He thrives on the dead,
He thrives on the blood.
This poet is portrayed as a
Nice, quiet man;
A widower of three,
A father of five -
But inevitably they all perished,
And died as they slept.
A knife to the throat,
And they perished as they slept.
This poet, he is deranged,
This poet, he is a man,
This poet, he thrives on
The darkness and the blood.
This poet, his kin died,
And he laughed,
And her cried, for he couldn't
Stop his need for the darkness,
And the blood.
This poet is deranged,
This poet is a man.
This poet, he locked
Himself away in his house,
For he didn't want to
Thrive on the darkness,
And the lies,
So he died in his house, alone.
The poet, his ghost
Is alone in the house.
The poet, he no longer thrives on
The darkness and the blood.
