You


Bleak and twisted, an an acre in Hell
We bought a dream house
The day that I fell.

You left me with Demons
And Wolves to tend.
When I became like them,
you left me to fend.

You called to the Angels, hoping they'd hear.
They turned thier wings toward you,
when they felt me draw near.

Changed and unstable, I followed your path.
And three of god's chosen,
Gave me your wrath.

You lied of your motives,
and all we held true.
When the blades hit my neck...
I'd become just like You.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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Jericho666’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The Colour of Satan 0
Hands 0
Waiting For Hell 0
Angel 0
The Day After 0
Sympathy For The Damned 0
Stone Gargoyles 0
When the Moon Gets Full 1
The Woodlands 0
You 0

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