Dark Poems

Roses are red, and so is blood. . .


2. 2.


I feel the heat

 Hear the sound

      Bones continue to fall

            In the growing mound

               A twist of body here, a cry there

                   The agony that spins the air is everywhere

                        I eye the blade, a pile of blood is dripping within

                            The twisted face, mocking eye's, the real devil's grin

                                    In and out the winding chambers, plays a devil's song

                                        The clock ticks, living time is numbered, just wait for the dong

                                                Each and every suffering person adds their own little scream

 And in the end, when I wake up






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