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 This is the garbage I write in my spare time.

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Selieno

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Posts : 145
Join date : 2012-11-18
Age : 20
Location : That weird place in life where you want to die, but can't.

PostSubject: This is the garbage I write in my spare time.   Sun Nov 18, 2012 10:58 pm

Rivulets of flowing Crimson
Soaring crescent of Maroon,
A thousand points of man's own Sin
Flows out to his Doom

A drop falls here, two more land there
Upon the Earthen floor alight,
Ask Him not how well he fares
For His life now does take flight

Rencounce your Name
Forget your past,
Release to Time
Your fortune cast

Forgive me Father
For I have Sinned,
I've spelt the End
Of mankind's Kin

Am I forsaken
Or am I poorly blessed?
Am I his scorn,
Or his last confessed?

I was to call
This man my King.
I was to fall
Amongst my kin,

In belligerence lies life
Obedience holds peace.
To rebel and fight for paradise,
Or simply rest beneath?
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Selieno

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Posts : 145
Join date : 2012-11-18
Age : 20
Location : That weird place in life where you want to die, but can't.

PostSubject: Re: This is the garbage I write in my spare time.   Wed Nov 21, 2012 4:16 am

Claim not to know that pain of truth
Assume not a mask that mocks my lost youth
Mere men hold not soul enough to withstand
The hate of their gods, their kin, and their clan.

Broken I stand, entire I bleed
Left here in the sands with my yearning and need
That which I search for, all others cast to the wind
That which I thirst for, all others seem to drown in.

Why might it be that my heart will not heal?
Might it be because to no god do I kneel?
If so then why does all of mans hate
Seem pointed to me and my ever-darkening fate?

My heart and my soul, both have been taken
Scarred, burned, consumed, played with and broken
These long years spent to drown in despair
And here now seals my coffin, these painful affairs.

My life is the life of a lost soul and cause
So many years I wandered and could not once pause
No respite was I given, only beatings to bruise
And sweltering welts left by each broken noose.

A great many lives I have lived in this time
Old before I was young, to die before my time
But what shall you expect, when the anger you feel
Is towards my next breath, my next turn on the wheel?
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This is the garbage I write in my spare time.
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