"Dreams of red,
But not of threats,
But from my head.
I remember shiny toys,
Sharp, they sliced.
Split, splat, they played,
On this stuffed bear"
⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧
"A wide smirk someone had,
A fine dainty,
For me to dine.
To rip, to gorge.
Chained to a surface,
Chopped, sawed-off,
Sewn and chopped anew.
She dug this sworn marrow,
yet she never peeked in the burrow.
Where, unknown to all, lies this cursed stupor."
⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧
"Little by little I felt scabs sprout,
from this decaying, flayed corpse.
Mine eyes scooped out and then poked,
Limbs sewn or hacked.
Mine innards without, hanging from this husk.
She wandered this intestines boasting knowledge,
Little did she know what was hidden in these bones.
A pastime, the voice said.
A pastime for her.
I don't know where am I,
But I know my talons shall claw thine eyes."
⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧
"I remember, this dirty patch where I found comfort,
How the fleshy floor aided in my imaginary slaughter.
But then I caught a whiff.
A conceited perfume wandered into my nostrils,
Exuding arrogance, it approached,
with blackened tendrils,
it looked into my skull.
He smiled as if I was an adorable puppy,
How lovely! He muttered as I imagined his snapped neck.
That long, black coat, embedded,
flaunting pretentiously his power,
hearing such claims is a bugger.
He then turned around and left,
a wake of despotism on his tail.
Proud and hungry, the man was
As easy as his smile to slice."
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Urge's Poems
诗歌"My blood whispers. As if Murder incarnate I bear killing as my art. Shall Father descend? Shall I carve the hearts of innocents for him?" These are poems that The Dark Urge has written and forgotten. Hidden away from prying eyes, are the doubts, co...
