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Dark Poetry #5
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vampirelover
Member
since 2009-05-17
Posts 74


0 posted 2009-10-07 05:23 AM



I woke to find myself alone
in a place where no sun shone.
a voice said “You’re not welcome here”
and I answered “Why?”

I stood up then and looked around
I saw a woman on the ground
she was pierced by many knives.
she made an ugly sound.

I found a window in the wall
where I could fancy I was tall
I put my hand against the glass.
it wouldn’t break at all.

I touched the window once again
I asked “Can I be loved by men?”
a voice then came from far away
and it answered “No”.

I asked once more, “So if not men
can I be loved by women then?”
another voice crept from the ground,
“Never” was the sound.

sometimes I roam in cemeteries
see bodies hanging from the trees
their eyes pecked out by scavengers.
nothing left for me.

I wander into mental wards
where men parade with rusted swords
I try to paint them with my brush.
I only paint their words.

I’ve seen a mirror made of wood
reflecting infants’ guts and blood
and every mother turns her back.
children here must die.

I’ve tried to be a mirror clear
bouncing back the blood and fear
the glass is darkly cracked, alas
I cannot feel a thing.

I’ve often noticed, when I’ve lain
close up to those in dreadful pain
the rise and fall of every breast
tells me I’m alone.

all men and women are the same
built of that dust Caesar became,
at night we walk in galaxies.
these days I do not sleep.

some people live in fields of bones
some women fiddle on their own
some women when their hands are tied
make the loudest sound.

some people live with broken glass
while others die from poison gas
others still need to confess.
here there are no Priests.

I woke to find myself alone
in a place where no sun shone.
a voice said “You’re not welcome here”
and I answered “Why?”
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Please note that in UK English “cemeteries” has only three syllables and is pronounced “Semetrees”.

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