Dancing 'round beneath these lies,
Her heart is dying, she scars, she cries.
Under the glossing pane of fear,
Her true self shines and opens near.
For we do not know what these tales bring,
Until the ghost reborn, and the birds sing.
Under the fiery flickering ring.
She must be contained, this is her trial.
Swimming, drowning, down the Nile.
Our hearts blossomed, worlds dimmed.
Our eyes bright, our heads pinned.
This we shall be, lying here.
But she is coming.
She is near.
Dead.
Are.
we.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Poetry
PoetryWar breaks out, Or so they shout. The odds of winning Are in doubt. We have no clue What the war is about, Yet we fight On and out. I'd like to get some stuff off of my chest. Some words I'd like to say. Some things I want to admit. All can be said...
