She sits upon her throne made of ivory and bone,
All-powerful and mighty, she resides alone.
I hear her call, deep and hollow,
she beckons me to follow.
Her voice is like metal and iron,
bitter words call me, its sound making my stomach churn.
I feel the urge to run, but her call pulls me in.
It allures me to society's image of sin.
Her voice hypnotizes me,
"Bring her to my side", is her plea.
Yet, she stays alone,
on that ivory throne.
Now her voice is quiet, dull, and calm.
I hear her sing the words of a psalm.
As her song lulls my once heart of stone,
I feel the warm embrace of home.
Now the lady residing on the throne of ivory and bone,
will no longer be alone.
YOU ARE READING
Half Past Ten
PoetryA book of poems I've made. Whether they be sad or happy, they're about true feelings and experiences. Though I do warn you, some of my poems have mature themes. Such as depression, suicide, and other mental illnesses.
