[ pâro - 2: ] the black hour
The hour is late and black as the night
outside of your tinted, tinted windows.
Why bother? They will not hide you from
me - I will find you and hunt you down
and you will fall, screaming, beneath
the sharp edge of my hatred for you.
I hate you. I loathe you. I fear you.
Why bother with fear when we'll all
soon be dead? O transient world -
let me stay awhile, and let me breathe
the breath of a thousand pained screams
into the ears of that one who has tormented
me for so long. Let me stay awhile. Just
a little while longer...
When the clock
strikes five and the sun rises, I will
spill your blood over the sky and paint
it with your broken veins. I'll plant your
bones deep beneath the sea, and spread
your ashes somewhere far, far away.
Where nobody will ever find you. Where
nobody can ever bring you back.
You
will die, Old One, and you will stay dead.
Your heart - as black as you - will rot
and crows - as black as you - will eat off
of your dead body and I will stand over you
and say
I do not fear you.
a/n:
for round 2 of "pâro", a contest by wildsorrows.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
