Monday, January 26, 2015

R.I.P

Her affection seemed to nag him.
He asked her to cut it out!
She obliged.
The blood stained clothes and his bleeding body now 

Rested In Pieces...

The Prisoner

Her wings are chained
like her heart,
to the walls of her captive soul
in a tiny dark room of her body,
It screams to break free....
To attain the key and unlock,
The dreams and desires that flock,
Her eyes can see the light of dawn,
Her mind can feel its warmth,
Oh! But why does the soul still feel so cold?
The mind so rational wonders how 
her beating heart feels so lifeless...
Her fingers, the wrinkles left from a smile, they caress..
Yet, the empty dying soul hunts for the lost key,
For her wings are chained
And it screams to break free......