Visitation to yourself.The last judgement

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Visitation to yourself.The last judgement

Shadows fill the earth.
A dark void of nothingness.
Tears of sorrow fill the midnight sky.
Entering the domain of deaths door.
Icy thoughts fill my head.
I cry,
Only to hear the voices mock me.
"Why am I here!" I shout.
"Was I sent here to die?"
The voices mock me.
"Don't mock me! I demand an answer."
Still I hear nothing.
Then out of the shadows steps a creature.
It says nothing.
I stare into its emotionless eyes.
I realize that its no creature,
But a man.
A pale shadow of a man.
What might have been,
Could have been,
Should have been.
That man is me.


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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

mrogre’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
World of illusion 1
Crazy psychopath 0
Me 1
Broken man 2
Where do I go? 3
Visitation to yourself.The last judgement 0
Wandering Thoughts 1
Untitled 0
Home Sweet Hell 1
love 2