Dyrwen
11-17-2003, 01:27 AM
Well, even though it hasn't been too long since my last poem. Here's another...
Deserts of Love
A rushing flow, the rivers of love,
the blood of our hearts, falling from above.
Drowing in their loss, forever in the ground,
unable to swim free, of my loveless destiny.
Blurry from the grassy fields,
I look out on bodies standing still.
They break like ash statues in the wind,
leaving seeds of despair in their timeless end.
Crawling accross the deserts of life,
I find the corpses of so many broken ties.
The puddles of tears ripple with their footsteps,
as they run away from their fears,
of what is to come next.
The fiery distant suns, burn down on our skin,
leaving us with scars, that remind us of them.
The ones we lost and are gratefully away from,
so we may find our lives, in an inner sanctum.
Birds and the soaring new ones in love, fly above,
until their wings are ripped from their backs in flight,
falling downward into a new, disgusting life.
Seeing their loss fly off into freedom,
while you sit and wonder, whether your greed is a sin.
Cold winds run accross my arms,
as I sit in the darkness, of my uncaring world.
Chosen for me, and uneasily happy in it,
wondering the purpose, when I care not to find it.
The heat continues, and my skin flakes off,
leaving me burt in the deserts of life,
finding feeling in this painful knife.
Emotions leave me, as I crawl accross the sands,
awaiting my day, when my heart bleeds with hope,
instead of bleeding from above, and leaving my corpse soaked.
Deserts of Love
A rushing flow, the rivers of love,
the blood of our hearts, falling from above.
Drowing in their loss, forever in the ground,
unable to swim free, of my loveless destiny.
Blurry from the grassy fields,
I look out on bodies standing still.
They break like ash statues in the wind,
leaving seeds of despair in their timeless end.
Crawling accross the deserts of life,
I find the corpses of so many broken ties.
The puddles of tears ripple with their footsteps,
as they run away from their fears,
of what is to come next.
The fiery distant suns, burn down on our skin,
leaving us with scars, that remind us of them.
The ones we lost and are gratefully away from,
so we may find our lives, in an inner sanctum.
Birds and the soaring new ones in love, fly above,
until their wings are ripped from their backs in flight,
falling downward into a new, disgusting life.
Seeing their loss fly off into freedom,
while you sit and wonder, whether your greed is a sin.
Cold winds run accross my arms,
as I sit in the darkness, of my uncaring world.
Chosen for me, and uneasily happy in it,
wondering the purpose, when I care not to find it.
The heat continues, and my skin flakes off,
leaving me burt in the deserts of life,
finding feeling in this painful knife.
Emotions leave me, as I crawl accross the sands,
awaiting my day, when my heart bleeds with hope,
instead of bleeding from above, and leaving my corpse soaked.