Against my will

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Lost Love
    • ,
  • Sadness
    • ,
  • Dark Poetry
    • ,
  • Life
    • ,
  • Loss
    • ,
  • Anger

    Against my will
    You hold my heart, within your hand
    I don't know how to feel.
    In your eyes, I'm a grain of sand
    A prisoner against my will

    You take my soul, you take my heart
    You hold them within your hand
    You kill my body, you rip me apart
    I'm somewhere in your land.

    This place is dark, this place is dead
    I wonder where I am
    This place of evil, is so red
    Like I give a damn

    You hold my heart, you control my soul
    I suppose this is love
    My eyes turn darker than coal
    This love isn't from above

    This isn't anger, this isn't hate
    This is what I am
    Because of you, I couldn't wait
    I'm darker than the lamb.

    So here I am, Filled with this hate
    and it's all because of you
    I died inside, I just met my fate
    what did you make me do?

    You hold my heart, within your hand
    I don't know what to do.
    I have my will, and I command
    you let my face turn blue.

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    CasimirJash commented on Against my will

    10-26-2009

    I kind of agree with Brad, i write poems like this all the time and I got the feeling of being captive in love and your soul can not escape, but being caught in her charm, with hate your heart was break, or broke when you had the power to decide what should you do, break up or make up, the choice was all up to you. (I just wrote this) lol, but anyways, great poem, I enjoyed the rhyme.
    Reply to Comment

    Brad1 commented on Against my will

    10-02-2009

    Its hard for me to comment for I am such a young budding writer. So this is where you meet this girl and you are vulnerable only to her because of her charm She is a powerful entity. But she casts you with the others slain by her charm, and your left in hunger for her wishing for death. That is my interpetation of it....Hopefully I was in the ball park.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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